ALBUM REVIEWS |
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Sometimes, you want to sit a person down. Let them know where they're going wrong. You want to do this because, you think, a word - a friendly, possibly critical but always constructive, word - could make a world of difference. Take Redjetson, for instance. A band comprising four guitarists, one drummer and one singer (called Clive). A band, furthermore, capable of generating no small amount of noise - albeit noise interspersed with pretty, glacial riffing and winsome vocals. Think Pale Saints. Think Adorable. Think Puressence. We are in the dark hinterlands that separate bands in thrall to the past (Franz Ferdinand, say, or Interpol) from bands ... well, from bands who are goth. It is, for want of a better expression, dark rock. They hit the stage to odd nods and grunts from the crowd and spend a toothsome period of time adjusting the effects pedals, dozens of which encircle each of the guitarists. Looks are exchanged between members of the band (of the 'are we going to stand here all night and tune up?' variety) and then they jump in. Quick. Just - as Tommy Cooper was wont to say - like that. And they make a fair old noise. It's a yearning sound (like early Verve or, for that matter, very early U2 or Bunnymen) broken up by fractious bursts of heads down rocking. Songs culled from the debut album, New General Catalogue, are blasted forth, and you think: yeah, you know, Redjetson are alright. They're all right. They show potential. But they need - to return to what I was saying at the start of this review - taking in hand. They need a little bit of advice. And the advice goes like this. First: lead singer, Clive. Stop leaning out into the audience! Clive has a tendency to clasp both hands around the microphone and - lean - precariously out into his audience. You get the impression that he's beseeching you. Listen to this, he says, it's sincere. But you watch him and you think, you're trying too hard, mate. Leave the bloody microphone stand alone. (There are only two people in the world who look cool fucking around with a microphone stand: one is Julian Cope, the other is Iggy Pop. Everyone else: leave your mike stands alone!) Second: all of the effects pedals. There are, as I've said, maybe a hundred effects pedals on the stage. And all of the guitarists rely on them in much the same way as a one legged man relies on a crutch. Effects pedals - or at least, a plethora of effects pedals - are A BAD SIGN. They suggest so-so guitar players hiding behind washes of eery sound. So dump the effects pedals. And maybe dump one guitarist too. Because the only band that needs to be more than a four-piece is Lambchop. Last but not least: the noisy bits. Each song opens with some plaintive, elegant picking only to descend into the melee within a few short moments. Nothing wrong with that. I'm all for melee. The problem is - during the quiet bits, the band are a band, they stand together, they look good; and during the noisy bits, it's like that song in Sesame Street about how each of these kids are doing their own thing. Each of the four guitarists offer up trademarked shapes, kicking and stamping pedals, rocking heads out of sequence with one another and generally doing their utmost to suggest 'this is MY moment, don't look at these other guys, watch me, can I rock or what?!?' And the fact is that yes, Redjetson can rock. They just need to sort their act out if they intend to be the kind of band people get really excited about. words: Peter Wild |
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