Album Review/side 2
Mr. Arc-Eye (under a cellophane sky) | by The Very Things GXL
Bathed in the glow of the intricate angle-poise lamp, tapping with great labour, sat the reviewer. Our wordy-bagatelle is switching seamlessly between typing, rereading and deleting words on the unforgiving screen…
The opening track on side 2, “I said Yeah,” highlights the Swiss army-knife* approach by the band in determining the album’s character. In an era defined by labels and pigeon-holes, attempting to determine this album’s genre is about as easy as popping a wheelie on a Raleigh chopper, two up. The opening fanfare of guitar chords heralds a gospel & soul fusion from the music recycling centre based in Redditch. The lead singer implores and the backing singers beseech. Moreover, the voice-over – mid-track- complements the urgency of the track. The lyrical motif on repeat asks if we “believe?” Hell yeah!
The hand-wringing, knuckle cracking, involuntary chuntering and middle-distance stares are part of the creative equation…track 7 “Ghost Pool” plays out once again.
The confessional voice-over reprimands “the show-off, the fool” with overlaid 1950’s space-age sonic swirls to greet the curious. Bass heavy and with a ring dance that would shame most heavy-weights the track chugs along with understated horns and defiant drums. Lyrics are stage-whispered or at times exaggeratedly pronounced and underline the skittish quality of the album.
The opening piano notes of “Time is not on my side,” comfort the listener but there is a sinister overture to the simple note run that cannot be ignored. The incursion of the heavy bass is a welcome invasion. The earnest nature of the track is reflected in the maxim “time is not on my side,” which is repeated throughout. However, the predictable emphasising of the phrase is corrupted by the mercurial jazz-addled saxophone. Ice-cream van jingles played at the end symbolise the passing of time from childhood to the irritation of adulthood when you have to put your hand in your pocket – or am I over thinking?
So much thought has been applied to the creation of this album. Languorous yet animated, influenced by Americana yet so very uniquely English, appearing to borrow from everywhere yet is defiantly individualistic and as a result a fascinating listen.
Sitting back admiring the design of the lamp inspired the harassed writer. It is easy to bask in the warm glow of the album’s ltd edition orange vinyl. The tracks listed as intricate as any circuit board or vintage time piece. Moreover, the sound is both angular and rounded. Consequently, the album like the band is poise and style personified.
The album climaxes with the indulgent leviathan that is “76 Trombone Street”. The signature horns compete with the ever-present bass, the singer competes with the wall of sound and the song competes for your attention. This is the nexus at which Motor City and Pigbag and afternoon discos and Tom Waits and John Peel and Forbidden Planet and Marcel Duchamp and no one in particular compete to complete the Venn diagram. There is nothing superfluous here for the scrap man.
Deliberating whether to press send or delete, our wordy-bagatelle stiffly stands up. Across the street under a street light sits a Ford Cortina Mk3 GXL replete with four occupants. They don’t seem to be hiding the fact they are staring up at the window. These are the very things seen from the corner of the eye that distract on a daily basis.
One hopes this is not the denouement after 35 years.
*form follows function
By: Swilgate Scuttler
Ps The names have been omitted to protect the guilty.