By Pull Tiger Tail
So here are my simple and easy-to-follow guidelines for tossing off 500 words on Pull Tiger Tail:. One - Pull Tiger Tail are currently the Jonathan Wilkes to the Klaxons' Robbie Williams. Two - They recently played the MySpace tour so there's the music on the internet buzzzzzzzzzz... sorry I nodded off. This is the stale and tired reality of the by-the-numbers mainstream music press (see Popworld Pulp - 130,000 copies printed, 9,000 sold, clue was in the title), the quicksand from which Pull Tiger Tail must attempt to extricate themselves.
It would probably have helped their cause if they had provided some mark of distinction. These days the de-facto stance for an all-male indie band is bang in the middle of the listenable but eminently forgettable road. I must have listened to this song fifty times and yet every time I find my attention wandering away, my concentration drawn inexplicably towards an enticing mark on the wall or an uncontrollable urge to scratch the back of my head.
But at the same time it's a perfectly adequate effort in terms of execution and production. The drums dominate, the guitars low in the mix, the composition wanes and refocuses. Vocalist Marcus Ratcliff frequently repeats the same line and the effect is an unwilling echo in your head, like a multiplication table drill. Ratcliff's protagonist rails against routine ("Aren't you sick of being automatic?") but although they laud their own existence it's as if they lack the courage of their own convictions ("I'm a hero for the old romantics"). As the song builds towards a somewhat unconvincing conclusion, we're left to consider where these frustrations might lead ("I'm drawing lines no one can see... I'm crying at the state I'm in...I've tried my best, I'm giving in").
Hard to see where there could be a niche for this kind of averageness though. Yes, I'm sorry to say it's the mainstream for these guys.