That’s a name of some grandeur they’ve given themselves. Quite something to live up to too. And we know little of the monarchic qualities and customs in previous royal Spanish hierarchies, but we’re sure such erratic changes of tack can do little to endear you to a nation. You can have your face on a stamp but there’s something to be said for leadership. So maybe they’re just hitching a ride on the cloak tails of previous established institutions, which in the eyes of history may be all well and good. So they open this manifesto with ‘A Place For Everything’, forcing your head hard up against the print with intent and a rather bloody heady helping of hardcore dictation, lyrics spat out so damn fiercely you can barely make out the meaning. But you get the gist. Producer and engineer have had a hand in sealing Fugazi’s and Girls Against Boys’ angst so all seems good. Start as you means to go on.
Or not as the case may be. And is. ‘Your Starlight’ keeps up the pace, even if it drops the ire a bit into the Quicksand. There’s such a thing as regrouping yourself for battle we suppose. But third track, the unconvincingly titled ‘Venetian Blinds’, plain gives up, sets up camp, drops a few coloured paper parasols into a few colourful cocktails and goes all Weezer on us. All ‘doo-doo’ harmonies and jaunty beats and slouching under the beating strain of the sun. Talk about taking time out. It’s good, maybe it’s great, but it doesn’t say much for their dedication. And by ‘Hanging Around’ they’re sewing the cub-scout ‘indie’ badge onto their uniforms by way of confirmation.
Suddenly they look rather unconvincing. Which isn’t to say they’re not good to have around. It’s a bit Foo Fighters without having to impress the suits, especially on ‘Meanest Sound’, ‘So Wrong’ and ‘Face I Know’, not to mention most of the others. It’s not like it’s unsatisfying – the buoyant lazy desert pop of ‘Traps’ verges on being really very pretty for instance – just that there’s little purpose, understanding of who they are, or more importantly who they want to be. If songs aren’t written, if they just come to their owners, they seem to have stumbled upon a few leftovers. Future Kings maybe, but there is a bit of a debate as to the relevance of such a thing. And if it came to a referendum who’s to say which way it would go.