So, this album has its problems, as did its predecessor, 2007’s ‘Narcissus Road’, which slid from view with its arm extended but going largely unnoticed, like the indie world’s homeless man. It’s stock indie – melodramatic, comfortable, warm indie – played comfortably by competent men. Even if there is any pain in there, any attempt at poetic communication, and most probably there is a little, it’s hard to recognise with a surface so buffed and standard. Veterans of Britpop in a behind the scenes kind of way, Antony Genn and Martin Slattery had filled session musician and producer boots throughout the era and presumably used to falling into line didn’t entertain much of a change of tack when they should have been jutting out stealing thunder. Unlike a band like The Veils (also, incidentally, releasing an album this month) they didn’t drag the Suede/Gene/Marion template anywhere more scenic or difficult and suffered from the muddy familiarity that inevitably brought.
But though this second album gives away nothing initially, the single ‘Big Black Hole’ is still so slick it leaves little to get any purchase on and ‘These Days’ and ‘Come On’ are so dreary and sub-Keane they take quite some wading through, it slowly builds itself up into something reasonably self-aware and ambitious. Rhythmically efficient and crafted clearly and methodically from layers that hint at optimism but never break into obvious full acknowledgement, much on here evokes Doves’ robust seriousness (again, making their return this month); ‘Never See You Again’ the perfect example, pushing forward with real intent though never quite discovering a hook or conclusion to entirely justify the belief. ‘The Girl Who Had The World At Her Feet’ however builds up a real head of steam in the end, banging out rough edges into something much grander, and ‘Wall Of Sound’ and the title track close the album chiming despair up to its optimum brightness. It might not be enough to stop them slipping away like before but it was worth making the effort to come back.