By The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart
Cunningly spotting that indiepop is boring retro Nazi rubbish if you do it for more than one album, our valiant heroes The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart have spent recent singles trying to sound like a hazy shoegazy New Order. And having talked about the band on the CD for a whole sentence, it is time for one of my digressions. Why is it that every indie twat in the world falls to their knees and licks New Order's critically adored boots at the slightest command, but no one takes The Human League seriously? I'm not knocking the great New Order or anything, but you could lock them in a room until judgment day and they wouldn't make a record as good as 'Together in Electric Dreams', as they would be too busy boring everybody's cock off about the fucking Hacienda and Factory Records, whose biggest achievement was turning down The Stone Roses FOUR TIMES and getting told to fuck off by The Smiths. And Oh God wasn't that spazz between Hooky and Mani hilarious? Like watching two old ladies having a bitch fight over a packet of prunes.
Anyway, in the light of all this, Pains have splashed a bit of that cash and in an attempt to make their lo-fi beauty a bit less, well, lo-fi they have recruited Alan Moulder and Flood, who you will remember from all those bad metal albums they produced in the 1990's. Honestly, it wasn't worth the money as the production is just like a shinier, chunkier version of 'Higher Than The Stars'. Never standing still, the Pains of Being Pure At Heart are pushing us into the future! If the future was 1983. Thankfully they've remembered to write two more of the best pop anthems in the history of music, just like they always do, and once again you will wrap those big headphones round your head and fantasise that you have stolen a car with a girl whose name you don't even know and are riding off into the sunset with her hand on your thigh, blasting this almost irritatingly wonderful single and planning gun crimes. The inclusion of really high, squealing processed guitar solos that don't go on too long and have Beastie Boys levels of gate* pushes this record into the stratospheric heights of seventy kajillion bajillion squillion million bazingillion out of ten, and they are only just starting to get good. I know I take the piss, but if Pains keep making singles like this, I will forgive them for not splitting up or dying in a car crash, which is what all bands should do NOW.
* (ask a guitarist and then DON'T LISTEN TO HIM because guitars are boring, production techniques are boring and musicians are scum. Have a nice day)