Kittiwake Records
Nov 1st 2010
Francesca Baker
Dude. Awesome. Duuuuude. Awesome. Duuuuude. For anyone aged 15 and over in 2000, sorry, just needed to get that out of my system. For anyone younger, please don’t lament your tender years. It was a rubbish film anyway.
Considering that it’s a Friday night and I’m sitting here tapping away, by rights I should be sobbing into my microwave meal for one, but from the opening of Mrs Radbone my head’s jutting like one of them funny birds, just out of time with my feet tapping, and occasionally I rap my fingers on the edge of the desk. All in all I look like a puppet on strings having a fit.
There’s plenty going on, layer upon layer building up like a lego tower – multi-coloured and fun, the strong chords far more conducive to a solo air guitar session than lonely cry.
But part way through the music takes a breather, just long enough for the glory of the lyrics to shine through: ‘Love you Mrs Radbone cause you’re Kyle’s mum.’ Really? I was letting the Americana vibe go, but when they introduce dumb Blink 182 style lyrics, it’s hard not to roll the eyes and think back to, what , 2000, when this kind of thing was all the rage.
Thankfully I’ve listened to plenty of the band’s other tracks to know that, as well as the tongue in cheek teenager vibe, they have the ticking incessancy of The Strokes, the undulating urgency of Weezer, and more hooks than a curtain pole. Whilst I’m sure that Kyle’s pleased, for me the inauthenticity of ‘Mrs Radbone’ means that it just falls short of the mark that ‘The Ballad of Terry McGann’ and ‘Rhythmic Social Ritual’ have left me expecting.
But then, music hacks. What do we know? Head on down to The Cuckoo’s Nest, Acton, on Sat 11th to judge for yourself.
And So She Thinks 