Review: Pete Fij & Terry Bickers – ‘Broken Heart Surgery’


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The  problem with being over forty is people so often insist that you act your age; while you’re ticking off another item from your bucket list like white water rafting without a boat, you almost can’t hear yourself think for the tutting of judgemental bystanders.

On ‘Broken Heart Surgery‘, Pete Fij‘s subject has suffered one of the most ignominious fates that a middle ager can endure: being chucked. The trauma of it is etched in almost every angry, sardonic word, while his partner in crime, Terry Bickers, offers tea, sympathy and understated guitar by way of a shoulder to cry on.

Both are – or were – nearly men of British indie rock. Had fate been more kind either would be held in the same esteem as an Ian Brown or John Squire, but Bickers intemperate departure from the much vaunted House Of Love and the devastating impact of grunge on Fij’s Adorable (amongst many other bands of the early nineties) leaves them putting out the lo-est of fi records like this, exquisitely crafted but tempered by an understandable feeling of weariness.

Although never much getting above walking pace, the duo wring pathos galore out of their material. Opener ‘Out Of Time‘ sees Fij as a croaky voiced technophobe, rejecting the modern day conceit of love, “As a voucher code/A free download”. On ‘Downsizing‘ he’s still in denial, sounding vaguely like Ray Davies to a backing that barely involves more than a strum and a tambourine. Acknowledged as someone who sometimes makes guitars do things that are stunning, Bickers wisely rejects any temptation to overdo it, allowing Fij’s menopausal sadness to be the star.

For sure there’s something queerly voyeuristic about listening to songs that are so mono-thematic, whose titles include ‘Breaking Up‘, ‘Loved and Lost‘ and the brilliantly named ‘I Don’t Give a Sh*t‘. The latter appears to be inspired by one of those late night, too drunk moments which anyone who’s ever split up with anyone they didn’t want to split up with has had, one where a former object of affection just won’t leave their thoughts, no matter how abrasive the mental purging is.

At times the going is as tough for the listener, but moments like Bickers’ deftly understated tremolo on ‘You Are The One‘ add a rare lustrous sheen to words about a closure that is never going to come: first date music this is not. There’s little respite, but ‘Sound Of Love‘ at least has a little more animation, although it is noises like slamming doors and the roaring silence of stalled conversations which occupy Fij’s desolate thoughts.

Barren and bittersweet, ‘Broken Heart Surgery’ is the album John Cusack would probably have on repeat in his egg-headed record store. It might have been easier to tell Fij that he should get over it and that there are plenty more fish in the sea, but that idea always feels a lot more reassuring when you’re on the right side of 30.

History is rarely written by the losers, but if you’re willing to play the role of therapist, there’s plenty here to enjoy.

(Andy Peterson)


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