There are some albums for which the ‘skip’ button is a bit defunct, and there are some for which the consumer can be infinitely grateful that there is an ‘eject’ button…
Luckily, this latest offering by The Rifles most definitely falls into the former category – unless one is in fear of wearing out the record through over playing, and wants to wrap it up in cotton wool before plopping it into the relevant listening gear and cutting some more rug to it.
From the word go, don’t expect to hear anything here that is dark, or edgy, or slightly ‘out there’, for it doesn’t appear that the collective members of The Rifles are suddenly going to scrap their conventional instrumentation, and songwriting process in favour of taking to the stage and hitting defunct gas ovens with loins of meat, or recording themselves drilling large holes in the sides of Porsche 911s.
Instead, across these songs, the quartet seem hell bent on almost cudgelling the listener into swinging their pants in merry abandon, particularly if under the influence of a few civilised sherbets. They have more than succeeded in crafting ten hearty figments of good, solid, fun rock and roll, but which also has its dynamic side, as most of the songs here show a more than deft ability for old fashioned songwriting.
Since their inception a decade ago, and their 2006 debut album, The Rifles have been consistent in releasing a body of work which has been cited as cherry picking from illuminates including The Jam and The Clash and, while not exactly garnering the over-achieving chart positions of some of their contemporaries, have achieved a cult following which now sees hardcore fans packing out their exciting, often raucous gigs.
Here opener ‘Minute Mile‘ is a rhythmic cocktail of duelling angular guitars splashing out an infectious little riff cycle, revved up by a liberal buttering of bass and drum loosely recalling the lilt of David Byrne‘s kooky new wave funksters Talking Heads, and galloping along with an enthusiasm similar to The Strokes‘ ‘Hard To Explain‘.
‘Heebie Jeebies‘ is a clattering, beat-heavy number which fizzes with a joyously nervous, infectious zeal and cleverly apes the energy of the early work of Weller, Foxton and Butler, with a sprinkling of the Kaiser Chiefs shoved in there for good measure.
‘All I Need‘ skips along at a swinging pace, sounding a little like ‘What Difference Does It Make?‘ by The Smiths if said tune had been covered by Oasis, and then Terrorvision had covered that version; a zesty, choppy, equally upbeat relative of Shed Seven‘s anthemic ‘Going For Gold‘, but minus the trumpet sounds which seemed to top the choruses of a lot of swaggering Britpop anthems of the late nineties era.
One of the best on the record is ‘Catch Her In The Rye‘, a cool (almost dancey) number with ringing guitar and the tight bearing of a Franz Ferdinand track and echoes of their fellow Scottish band Idlewild, and a reflective warm sadness that is reminiscent of some old Rialto tune; a track resplendent with an outro of almost anthemic, lighters in the air proportions which would certainly make it a pleasing closure to a Rifles gig.
There’s an exciting, impromptu choir-like, foot stomping, hand clapping John Lennon/Plastic Ono band ‘Give Peace a Chance‘ vibe about album closer ‘Under and Over‘, with a melodic, rolling chorus that is guaranteed to have even the most reluctant of dancers writhing in the aisles.
And then it’s all over, with the crowd (for this music really does require such an audience) maybe feeling none the wiser but, in true Oliver Twist style, definitely wanting more.
