Kasabian’s previous album, ‘West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum‘, was a chaotic concept disc in ode to classic mind-trip long-players that became an unexpected smash, earning the band a Mercury Prize nomination and an entire world of new listeners, many of whom were former detractors.
Despite its loony bin theme presuming it less commercially viable than earlier albums, it unquestionably produced the Leicester band’s biggest string of hits so far, an altogether rare occurrence for an already huge act three albums in.
The early word on the follow-up didn’t waver an inch from the Asylum’s lunacy either. With an exclamatory jurassic title, a pill-munching jungle romp of lead-off single ‘Switchblade Smiles‘ and an unused verse from hip-hop has-been LL Cool J, if anything ‘Velociraptor!’ was set to be an even less orthodox collection than its predecessor.
As it turns out though, the build-up to ‘Velociraptor!’ was a tad misleading, by no means a bad thing, meaning it’s no mere morning-after regurgitation of the last album’s open-air psych-rock. Though by comparison ‘Velociraptor!’ is a more subdued, moderate effort, baring the markings of both maturity and (in Serge Pizzorno’s case at least) sobriety, it’s also more considered, inventive and less lopsided by obvious single material, while also lassoing elements of everything they’ve touched on before.
‘Let’s Roll Like We Used To‘ gallops along a rather epic spaghetti western brass fanfare harking back to the more cinematic moments of ‘Empire‘, and as openers go it’s a decidedly different approach from the usual heavy bombast, standing more as a prologue to the trek ahead.
‘Days Are Forgotten‘ then picks up with a tromping drum loop and a barely-amplified dirt riff taking us back to familiar boot-stomping territory, with Tom Meighan’s monkey man rhetoric as dumbfounding as ever. A delicate, crooning chorus redeems the questionable lyrics though, the first sign of Kasabian’s new found ability to subdue while maintaining the quality.
It’s a good job they have too, with back to back balladry leading into the midpoint. They’ve never been hugely gripping when stripped down, but the soulful, arms-aloft ‘Goodbye Kiss‘ is perhaps their greatest attempt at a proper heart-sweller and an unlikely album highlight. ‘La Fee Verte‘, under Serge’s deliverance, fails to evoke the same appeal and is more than a bit hammy by comparison, sitting next to the wishy-washy, Kraftwork-aping ‘I Hear Voices‘ as the albums most forgettable pair.
But it’s merely a blip on an otherwise earth-shaking second half, presented as a captivating safari of cultural mash-ups and devilish genre hopping. The title track and ‘Rewired‘ are the closest we touch on ‘classic Kasabian’, both confrontational jet fuel-guzzlers carrying enough hooks to purge the earth’s oceans, with ‘Rewired’ almost like what one of The Music’s early Manc rave-ups would’ve sounded like in the collaborative hands of Jamie xx.
Meanwhile, the stringed centrepiece ‘Acid Turkish Bath‘ features handclaps and a gladitorial ‘Kashmir‘-in-reverse symphonic riff locking horns with Serge’s rangy vocal making for their single most ambitious composition since ‘The Doberman‘ and arguably the album’s high point.
After the aforementioned lead single things are once again scaled back for the round-off, but to greater success than before, where ‘Man of Simple Pleasures‘ rests on slightly Mediterranean flirtations glimmering on a strum resembling Gorillaz‘ ‘Clint Eastwood‘, before Serge reappears one last time to lullaby the remainder in ‘Neon Noon‘.
With a patchy first half, a roaring mid-section and sleepy finale there’s little discernible flow to ‘Velociraptor!’, but compared to the gloriously heaving mess of the last album, Kasabian are at least this time more subtle about where they’re uneven. And although it’s hardly a patch on ‘…Asylum’ for ‘career rebirth’-type chart hits, it’s certainly a gentle progression, more well rounded and with less glaring filler.
It’s Kasabian emerging from the madhouse a little more world-wise, but still a bit insane in the brain.
(Daniel Robinson)
