One thing I'm sure of - this is the most difficult album here to write about convincingly without sounding like an idiot. I'll give it a go.
Starting proper with a song calling itself "The Last Significant Statement to be Made in Rock'n'Roll" and ending with an emphatic call for no less than the end of all pop music, full stop, it's fair to say that The Indelicates are not ones to shy away from Big Statements. Musically they follow suit, drawing heavily on well-worn stadium rock gestures and the excesses of Britpop in particular - "Heroin" is Suede from the title on in, and when the Oasis-style harmonised guitar solo of "Unity Mitford" kicks in it's difficult not to laugh at the sheer gall on show.
All of which doesn't exactly sound like a great recommendation, except that they have one simple lesson just right - If you're going to proclaim your thoughts about the state of the world at every step, to turn every line into a slogan, they have to be good ones. And, thanks to terrific scabrous wit and ear for just the right phrase, they all are, and all matched by a righteous passion and indignation that says 'this deserves the big musical gestures' with enough force to make them sound fresh anew.
So the aforementioned "Statement" picks out 'the fanzine writers [who] write for broadsheets' with gleeful disgust. "Our Daughters Will Never Be Free", Julia Indelicate's deeply sarcastic protest at the treatment of women, commands 'Lift up your top/Got to use what you've got/It's all tongue in cheek anyway' before escalating to rape, beatings and 'Let's just be pretty/Let's just be beautiful/Let's just be retro and disco and twee!' with such fury that you wonder what exactly her experience in The Pipettes was. "Heroin" somehow delivers the couplet 'She plays acoustic guitar and the flute and the harp and the theremin/On heroin' with a straight face and magnificent centrepiece "New Art for the People" picks out its doomed romantic devotion in terms of 'The dark days ahead and the blood on the bed/And the cover of the NME'.
The picking on easy targets that saw their most prominent early demo being "Waiting for Pete Doherty to Die" is now gone. By contrast, "...If Jeff Buckley Had Lived" is magnificent, similtaneously skewering his revered place as a result of his death and inspiring a great deal of sympathy for the man and the fact that a life lost is worth more than the chance to never suffer 'The weak second album/And the difficult third'.
2 comments:
In my own albums of the year writeups I always make sure the number of words in each one increase incrementally. What that meant for American Demo is cutting nearly half as many words again out of the first draft, so much is there to say and explain about it.
I know what you mean!
I think mine won't do the same largely thanks to the peculiar considerations of writing about the same band twice without just repeating myself.
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