When indie rockers The Kooks
burst onto the scene with the angsty and infectious ‘Naïve’ back in 2006, the
band received critical acclaim, with the release going on to sell millions.
Whilst the second offering from the band a couple of years later shot to the
number one spot, this was later attributed to the reputation and premise of the
first lash of material. In an attempt to repeat the formula, Konk was soon
perceived as a dry and uninspired copy of its predecessor: the rockier songs
had less kick, the sing-alongs had less cheer.
With great disappointment then, I
read early reviews of Junk Of The Heart,
that indicated the album was to be, at best, average.
Having hidden themselves away in
some obscure location for several months, this album was to be a return to form
for a group who has now suffered line-up changes and severe delays to
production. Critics however gear
negatively towards the offering claiming that “[The album] is a series of
half-formed, indifferently performed tracks” [Andy Gill, Independent], or mock
the group as “boys next door who've got hold of a guitar and some Beatles wigs”
[Caroline Sullivan, Guardian].
After listening, we can all
breathe a sigh of relief: the donned Beatles wigs, per se, are rather of the
experimental type, and those who regard the album in such an unfavourable light
have obviously missed the depth and showcased talent in the new hash.
True, nothing on this album
stands out as ‘She Moves In Her Way’ as a summer anthem, nor does it excite
rebellious teenagers: but then this album is a passage to adulthood for the
band; songs featured are troubled and tinged with first regrets and a desire to
regain youth.
In fact, the third effort is a
spine-tingling showcase that plays like an extended version ‘Seaside’,
vulnerable and lonely, crossed with an apathetic ‘Ooh La’ (forgotten gems of
their debut).
Opener ‘Junk of the Heart
(Happy)’ echoes the group’s efforts in reacquainting themselves with their
diverse influences. Twisting a sixties swing element, the track amply denotes
the guitarist skill within the band, alternating between the relaxed acoustic
sounds and the heavier and darker breaks of the electric guitar. Throw in the
warbling of lead Luke Pritchard, which was the original source of the band’s
uniqueness, and there is established a real sense of melancholy. This blurring
of the boundary between positive and negative haunts the album throughout, and
separates it from other indie albums in its quest to revive 60s, 70s and even
80s mainstream.
Should Beatle wigs be uptaken in
such numbers as the softly reminiscent ‘How’d You Like That?’ they are only for
influence and quickly shook off. Rather than a quirky throwaway pop track of
love, the sound shifts to tribulation and trepidation. Elsewhere, David Bowie
masks are simply skin deep in ‘Runaway’ and ‘Mr Nice Guy’, both alternating
dark synths with scathing lyrics: obsession of “Seeing your name on the wall
again” in the first, played against the deceit of “Believing in things that
don’t believe in you”.
Tracks such as ‘Rosie’, wherein
the band are prophetically “followed by the same old cloud again”, and
‘Petulia’ highlight the loss of innocence for the band: love’s fragility and
hurt consuming “Be careful with me”. These sentiments are best framed by short
‘Taking Pictures of You’, which merits every moment an individual showcase of
both beauty and disgrace.
Regarding the arrangements and
instruments that grace the album, there has been some consideration in how to
best achieve this revival feel. Credit should be given to the ethereal use of
strings in ‘Time Above The Earth’, introducing a stripped back approach that is
rarely used in the genre. Lead single ‘Is It Me?’ almost strays into drum n
bass territory before switching abruptly to moody 70’s rock ‘n’ roll. A
smattering of synths offers a dark edge to many a track; the contrast and clash
between the guitars and electronica is to unsettle the listener and reaffirm
the changing and unstable emotions and feelings in each piece.
Incorporating such a plethora of
influences however means there is a hard balance to achieve. Whilst The Kooks
should be praised for their indie stamp on some classic 80s sounds which takes
a main segment of the album, the straying inclusion of 60s swing and post
millenium drum almost sounds unconsidered in its measure.
Arising from this problem is that
none of the tracks offer the simple happy Brit pop that featured on the first
two albums. Whilst this is an interesting expansion into other territories,
perhaps there has been too wide an area covered too thinly.
With this in mind, it is easily understood how Natalie Shaw, and many others, mistook lack of
direction for scribblings: “[The album is] just a messy selection of meandering
verses that surely can’t be the product of three years’ work.” [Natalie Shaw,
BBC]. However, each track has some reference point to a dark experience: a
regret, a mistake, a love lost. The meandering verses serve as a mental
riddling of whether the right or wrong was done.
In fact that a majority of the
individual pieces lifted from this album is not going to storm any mainstream
chart in a hurry is true testament to the quality of the Brindie Pop to be
enjoyed.
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