There was an unusually high level of pressure on this particular CD as it spun under my review-o-scope.
Not only does it bring up my much-anticipated and increasingly tardy double-century of reviews, but also the artists in question are looking to tip the balance back into the positive after one enthusiastic and one disparaging assessment.
My first listen to this effort saw my leaning strongly towards the dismissive. I struggled to find much joy in this bundle of surprisingly unfamiliar tunes. Much of the material seemed underdeveloped and disposable.
Burdened with the distraction of huge piles of assignment marking (hence little time to write my reviews and move on), I persisted with the album.
Familiarity was built, and some admiration won. I began to embrace the experiments and the quirks. The surf guitar on Memory Man, the thrashiness of Very Biased, the laidbackness of Hello Machine, and the perverse pop of The Truth About Drugs all became imbedded in my subconscious.
The poppiest moments here don’t quite hit the Wahooti height, but Anatomically Correct and Nice Bird would get a slot on any ‘best of’ from these lads.
In the end, I’ve retreated from slamming the band with their own song title: Music is Crap.
File under: Not quite progress, but some benefits