four blokes in dublin get a bit miffed off with things so form a band and let rip into their instruments.
that’s the basic summary for this debut album. a lot of media attention seems to have been the about the guys being angry (haircuts, politics, tv – the lot apparently !), sorry, but that doesn’t cut any mustard with me, tis all about the finished product.
which, in this case, is a bloody noisy indiepunkrock album that never once dips into the world of sensitivity, no concessions to synths and electro, no jittery drum patterns, just straight for the jugular rock-n-roll.
of course, there are some days that this is a damn fine thing. i mean, who needs fucking a bryan adams ballad in the middle of a bad mood day – thankfully there aren’t any concessions to the softer side across these 11 hyperventilating rock tracks. the album kicks off with recent single, ‘diet pills and magazine’ that has a real energy behind it with the band making us very aware that they have been listening to killing joke, post-punk and all manner of bass filled monsters in recent years. the central factor of the ‘this is the shit so get used to it’ makes this a firm favourite for student indie discos for years to come, despite the fact that it’ll never be played on the radio. good.
the urgent noise of the opening 4 minutes will define whether or not this is an album for you. if you think the song is a fantastic example of how bass, guitars and primal drums can increase your levels of adrenalin then the next 40 minutes are going to be a major attraction for you, if on the other hand, you find the one dimensional aspect of the production and simplistic nature of the in-yer-face lyrics are a little too close to those that have trodden on this path before, then this album will just make you recoil in horror.
me personally, i love it. the melodies are forthright, the bass lines drive the woofers into submission, there is a huge chunk of old fashioned indie rock style, oh, and the guitars hurt. highlights are many, from the 1977 punked up style of ‘out on a wire’, the chorus to the central nervous system of ‘long time coming’, to the seriously over the top nature of album closer ‘mass hypnosis’.
so, if you think the new razorlight album is for your softy parents, and you want to have an album that’s going to piss em off as well as prove to the neighbours you’re in a bad bad mood, then rush down to your local compact disc emporium and place your hard earned on this social misfit.
more detail : here