:: Track Listing

1. Pump Up The Volume
2. Direct Hit
3. St Pauli
4. People In Love
5. Late Sunday Evening
6. I Will Survive
7. Post Soothing Out
8. Blame It On The Trains
9. Sound Of Summer
10. Nag Nag Nag Nag
11. Jealous Guy

:: Record Review

Art Brut

Its a Bit Complicated
(Mute; 2007)

Rating: 65%


The initial signs weren't good. It was always felt the Brut would be given a rough ride by the digital oscillator set, let alone Zach Braff's Beak.

I mean, Eddie Argos and co. have their faults, their untoward blemishes and pustules and embarrassing hiccups, just like the rest of us. Isn't that, kind of, the point? The uniform chug, the level-headed ambition, the elect blasé: aren't these the things that make Bang Bang Rock and Roll (2005) so great? Few other bands have got the whole "capturing the moment" thing to work so well. Few other critics have worked so tirelessly, ever. There was doomed to be a scene.

Braff's beakishness -- his inflexibly argued opinions, vehement and boorish -- is, this writer can personally attest, somewhat legendary here at CMG HQ. Always a controversial, if unsurprising signing to our staff roster, he first made waves with his announcement that he was here "to break down the remaining barriers inherent in your rock criticism and to take the Glow further forward than ever before into the fire of the delimited infinity, and perhaps beyond." His favourite album is Bad (1967). His first review (unpublished) was submitted in Assyrian cursive. He loathed Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. Of Grinderman, he was particularly low on charity: "a whiny bunch of old blokes chomping on the discarded threads of their unfinished lives, knowing they might just be chewing all the way to the grave." In short, not a man who would take kindly to the Brut.

The review it wrote for this record two months back tapped into an "unprecedented level of critical hostility," or was simply a "fart of decentralised venom," depending on who you talk to. Having read it a couple of times, I still can't say for certain whether he actually listened to It's a Bit Complicated, or why George Lucas figures so much into his analysis. But, anyway -- as you've (probably) guessed, things got messy; a bit complicated, even. And after all the hoo-ha and febrile sentiments, after, really, this long, unnecessary apology and explanation for Zach Braff's Beak, its fallen unto yours truly to hurl up the verdict on this, Art Brut's sophomore effort.

The lowdown: it sounds pretty much the same as Bang Bang, but not as good. It's not that the record is "bad" -- it isn't -- but that it, like its title suggests, is less brash, less fuck-all incautious about its rocking. The band has come leaps and bounds -- Ian Catskilkin lays out some stadium-sized solos on the strung-out paunch of opener "Pump Up the Volume," and "Nag Nag Nag Nag" is suitably conquistadorish. Eddie Argos sermonises on madness and mixtapes, his matter-of-fact delivery still effortlessly charming, if the slogans are generally less memorable. Nothing on par with "School kids on busses singing your name!" here. But it's made up for by the new melodic thrust of the group, Village Green backing vocals and all: "Post Soothing Out" is built around a brilliant, bouncy riff, eventually climaxing in the kind of euphonious and ecstatic racket that plays off so well against Argos' sentimental nonchalance: "It's not all doom and gloom / They didn't get around to redecorating your room." It's the same formula that the band have always used, but sobered up (!) and more musically developed. It's no unworthy addition to the band's catalogue, but its more considered approach suffers in comparison to its balls-out little brother.

There. Two months, seven days late, but we got there eventually. Art Brut, count yourself reviewed. And let this be a lesson to you, cursory Zach. Pray, let it flood every nook and cranny of your unbridled soul with the ether juice of snoot and society that we here call the super-noggins. Because you, friend, may belong to the smart set, with your impeccable attire, your brilliant knowledge of the West Coast. And, sure, you wear those shoes like a dove. But Zach, man, where is the love? Where is it?

Alan Baban :: 3 August 2007 |