Ho hum, wake me when it’s over, it’s another British Invasion, what,
#7, 8, 42? Every time a couple of U.K. bands get a couple of U.K.
critics excited and a couple of American scribes join the hysteria,
we’re told it’s a new BI, that there are all these absolutely fantastic
groundbreaking groups, usually mostly from one depressed industrial
English backwater, just waiting to come to the USofA to blow your socks
off with the next new boffo direction of rock and roll you never
dreamed of. Tell me, how many of them in the last 20 years put out more
than two albums before sinking like the stone roses they were? How many
that were trumpeted as the new saviors of rock can you still name? How
many Oasis albums in your collection? (And the Brits still consider
them huge.)
We Yanks owe a big debt to our former colonizers for seeing the value
in American music that we overlooked and recycling it into something
wonderful. And there are always a boatload of our contemporary
musicians that England and the rest of the world adores. But there has
also always been this difference in taste between our two countries
speaking (more or less) the same language that results in these
short-circuited music invasions. We don’t get the Gallagher boys, and
they never laughed at Johnny Carson. We’re even. And frankly, I enjoyed
the recent Swedish invasion more.
This it always makes me extremely skeptical before I run out to spend
my shillings on England’s next big thing. The Kaiser Chiefs are one
that’s gotten great press lately, but after I saw them on three
different TV talk shows in one week, performing the same song (“I
Predict a Riot”) – whose genius idea was that? – I was bored silly,
seen enough, thanks. I’ve heard Razorlight, Keane, Bloc Party, The
Futureheads, Snow Patrol, Maximo Park – no glimmers anywhere. The Kills
might be okay. Remember eight months ago, when the Scissor Sisters were
going to rule the world? See my review in the archives on that one.
But with each invasion comes at least a band or two that is worthwhile,
even if they don’t go mega-platinum in America. Franz Ferdinand
(another archived review) are one (their sales weren’t too shabby,
either), and now I’ve also got Kasabian and their eponymous album to
love (though the name, connected to the Manson murders, is a little
off-putting).
They assemble diverse elements uniquely and beautifully. They rock as
hard as you could want (though often in mid-tempos), with only minimal
dependence on guitars. They’re high-tech and low-fi, sometimes at the
same moment, they’ll rip off a burning guitar riff then strum something
that sounds like it’s been in the attic for 50 years and the strings
are still loose and dusty, they’re a 21st Century band whose music
shows they’ve absorbed everything since the ‘50s (but they seem to have
a special affection for bands of the first British Invasion, and their
‘80s progeny).
They have brilliant arrangements, which is crucial, but mainly they
have great songs, and that’s where you live or die. They were all
written by Christopher Karloff and Sergio Pizzorno, who also play
guitars and synthesizers, which would seem then to be 90 percent of the
band, but the singing of Tom Meighan is perhaps what really makes them
what they are. He’s one of those perfect vocal matches to the music
that lifts it to another level, like what Bono does for U2. His sound
reminds me eerily of a gifted Irish rock singer named Mark Leddy, now
an L.A. club owner, whose killer band The Cage never made their mark
here. Guess they were in-between invasions.
The album leads off with half a minute of eerie synth before hitting
you with some signature steamroller rock, with Meighan stepping out
forcefully from the top, shoving his credentials in your face. Synth
fights guitar for the lead in “Club Foot,” a great song, with
electronic pulses buried in the mix, and as it drifts easily from
propulsive rock to dreamy psychedelia, you have a pretty good idea of
what this band is about. “ID” goes further with a minute and a half of
electronic atmosphere before some low-key cymbal beats turn it into an
anguished rocker. “Cutt Off” goes all over the place in nearly five
minutes, alternating true trippy psychedelics with minimalist indie
rock beats with AWB horn (synth) riffs, wrapped around a funny little
tale. Their lyrics are a little bewildering at times. I think you had
to be there, sharing the right drugs, to understand "Just cancel the
chickens/And tell your son he should steal the gold, " from “Test
Transmission, which along with “LSF” are two other absolutely
outstanding cuts that have me wondering just what decade these songs
are from.
Each time I played the album, I’d sort of notice a little passage that
reminded me of an outtake from the “A Clockwork Orange” soundtrack.
Then I finally noticed a listing for a 46-second cut titled “Orange.”
“Pinch Roller” is another 1:15 of pure synth, and while the second to
last song, “Ovary Stripe,” credits Pizzorno with backing vocals, it’s
really another instrumental, nearly four minutes long. Yes, I know,
there are lots of long instrumental passages in most of the other
songs, too, and I’m usually no big fan of guitarless, drumless,
bassless music, but I’m telling you, these guys rock, they’re smart,
they’re musically informed. Speaking of bass, Chris Edwards does a fine
job and rounds out the quartet, and Kasabian seems to make do with
rotating drummers.
The last cut, “U Boat,” lists at almost 11 minutes long, but after the
first four minutes, it lapses into a full three minutes of silence –
will somebody please explain this trend to me? – before going into a
re-do of “Reason is Treason” (cut #3), which is my favorite song of the
year, a classic sing-along, with irresistible tempo and lyrics that
make no sense and the best kind of rock and roll repetition. These guys
get it.
Sound
Kasabian’s sound is so tied into their identity and value as a rock and
roll entity that most of it got covered above, in the body of the
review. The vocals vary in their placement in the mix, sometimes muted,
muffled, echoed, reverbed, but always intelligible. They’re expert in
their use of synthesizers. I’ve never heard anyone with a better
understanding of the full range of possibilities. There’s usually a lot
going on sonically, and it’s usually kind of muddy, but every part is
perfectly balanced. Kasabian is an album experience where the
production is almost the star of the show.
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