{grate 2.5} British accents are fucking awesome. Of course, this is
predicated on the assumption that you actually hail from its isles, and not a
Diego
try and fool you with their fake, Limey-coated vocals atop overtly sexual
lyrics on sophomore effort Slick Dogs and Ponies.
The quartet returns to the familiar wannabe-classic-rock
territory of their debut album, The Best Little Secrets Are Kept, with all the
trappings of a Stones,
T-Rex tribute band plowing the field for every coy attempt at sounding naughty.
They waste no time getting down with opener “Guilt By Association,” in which
haywire frontman Jason Hill asserts that “You don’t have to do the crime/ To
serve the time,” over punctuated Franz Ferdinand-lite guitar spurts and drums
that dream of being used in a DJ’s killer remix.
Virtually every song follows a similar pattern with a few
catches, like the absurd guitar feedback on “Swarming of the Bees” or the
ego-fueled chorus in “There’s a Traitor In This Room” (featuring revealing
lyrics “Who do you appreciate?/ Me, me, me, me, me!”). It’s not to say they
lack talent — laidback rocker “Tina” hits the dance groove more smoothly then
its frenetic brethren, and nine-minute “Hopesick” shows (God forbid) a little
depth.
Even the melodically glam “Air Traffic Control” feels
genuine before you realize it’s just a Fischer-Price rendition of David Bowie’s
“Space Oddity” — painstakingly lazy with a cookie-cutter approach to danceable
rock-n-roll songwriting. And although there’s a decent gel between the
breakneck songs and the lower-key numbers, at the end of the day, it all comes
down to the British accent and concealed cock-rock gimmick.
We get it; you really wanted to hold Mick Jagger and
Marianne Faithfull’s hair while they did a line of magic blow in 1969.
