The last time we saw our intrepid anti-hero he was appearing, it has to be said, remarkably upbeat. Dan Michaelson, the baritone rudder of twee but firm-handed post-Britpoppers Absentee, had been somewhat befuddled by love and life and had dragged himself through acts cynical, trying and tongue in cheek on their debut album ‘Schmotime’ before climaxing with the ticker-tape parade of ‘Treacle’ and its repeated “love – it gets sweeter every day!” refrain. The sun came out, it was undoubtedly a happy ending. Inevitably that couldn’t continue indefinitely and we’re met with the distinct air of melancholy again as ‘Victory Shorts’ opens with the mandolin slow-dance of ‘Shared’. But there is a noticeable difference in the way they’re carrying themselves this time round – he still makes Bing Crosby sound like he’s yet to go through puberty, but there’s something less laboured, more soulful, increasingly light-footed and confident about him as he croons that he “wants to be shared with you” in a tender low register as the band whip increasingly sweet layers of fondant melody around him. They’re just a better band this time around really, all aspects of their character remain, but boosted, refined, super-sized. ‘Boy, Did She Teach You Nothing’ and the adorably catchy ‘Pips’ snatch the baton from “Something To Bang” and shower it in sparks, a Supergrass/Elastica pile-up (and making us strangely long for Sleeper too), “Love Has Had Its Way…” is as blue as anything from their debut mini-album but zings with a more realised and lavish clarity like a baroque Wilco and the delightful “That Old Ghost” is like a waltz between latter-day Pulp and Sonny & Cher. More a reaffirmation all in all, but a technical victory nonetheless.
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