On 14th January 2013 at 21:22 Anonymous 43290 wrote...
Due to that first paragraph, you deserve to rot in the fiery pits of hell, and I sincerely hope you do.
By The Plea
This record sounds like a cross between three acts responsible for making some of the most bland, turgid and eye-gougingly boring horse wank musical debacles of the last decade. Take a bow U2, Richard Ashcroft and Snow Patrol. I remember some youth used to play that bastard 'Check The Meaning' record by Ashcroft in the sixth form common room every day. All nine minutes of the fucking thing. Sounds like Meat Loaf on jazz fags. The bit where he starts preaching to God. Awful. God awful. The worst part of any song ever, apart from the out of tune organ breakdown bit in the middle of 'Dancing In The Moonlight,' a song which, incidentally, I hear every day due to my inability to get out of my happiness-sapping devotion to retail.
So yeah, The Plea. Extraordinary band this one. Quite frankly unbelievable. Why? Because they take all these soul-destroying, ear bleeding, car insurance advert soundtrack elements and mix them together in some horrific pot of eternal despair, disappointment and disaster to create something that doesn't sound like a bag of de-fossilised dinosaur shit being funneled to your ear drums. It's not even close to that. It's actually really good. Took me a couple of listens but despite being the obvious choice to soundtrack the scene in some bab-ridden American teen drama where the girl realises she does want that guy that looks like a puppy after all and they run towards each other and meet in the park and then the programme ends with them kissing under a quaint old tree as the rain stops falling, it's something I wouldn't stop a lass from playing in the car.
I've slagged Ashcroft and Bono off enough. Yeah their recent output has been weak, but those voices once upon a time could've polished any turd going. The singer's voice here is mesmerising, a stunning mix somewhere between the two. And this is no turd. It's good pop that just keeps itself at arms length from dreary. The right side of the "stadium chorus," two words that absolutely frighten the living shits out of me. It happily goes along its merry goosebump buggering way like my inability to find a relevant simile. It comes, it goes, it's nice, it doesn't grate, the singer doesn't sound like the boring guy from the Vaccines (the complete opposite to polishing a turd...shitting on polished mahogany perhaps?) it's unchallenging, it's got lovely shiny arrangements, it'll be popular. Everything that indie music should be then? Because indie doesn't mean indie anymore does it?
Do I like it? I've changed my plea to guilty.