A few weeks ago, by coincidence, we had James’ Best Of on the office stereo; a 1998 compilation which is predictably heavy on their post-Sit Down vein of eminently likeable indie pop.
Predating singer Tim Booth’s original departure by three years, from one perspective it tells the story of a band making hay in the right place (Manchester) at the right time (the loose fit of the late 80s post acid house crossover). From another though, the grain is slightly different, that of a collective’s discomfort with being typecast as mere purveyors of Mondeo-friendly unanimity.
Since their reformation they’ve occupied a hinterland somewhere between the two; still comfortable enough with their increasingly distant heritage to let it out for air when circumstances dictate, but in a space where they can sell out arenas without having to resort to the straight back catalogue regurgitation of some of their contemporaries.
Their first outing since 2016’s Girl At The End Of The World, which peaked at a lofty number 2 in the album charts, Better Than That was produced by alt-J and Wolf Alice collaborator Charlie Andrew, a man chosen possibly because of his ability to makes edges hard or soft depending on necessity.
Pleasingly, despite the veteran status of their careers, this is not the work of a band lacking the wisdom to make cheap concessions. The titular opener barrels along, a clutch of overlaid ideas – bubbling synths, chopped guitars, rangy bass – all at an exuberant tempo that leaves little doubt as to whether Booth and co. are more closed of mind as they mature.
It’s a facet to their work designed to test the uninitiated, one where the superficiality of music as a swatch just to pass the time is dismissed as a bad idea. Closer Broken By The Hurt explores human fragility in the face of being once removed from a world turned inside out, the sort of dirge-come-confessional that’s been a hallmark of this darker other side of the band’s work for decades. The other two songs are no less fevered in their own ways; Hank a discordant take on confusion as our societal default state, whilst Busted’s undulating mood swings reflect the extremities of loss and guilty burdens the subject wears.
There’s no such ambiguity for James, as Better Than That paints them further into a corner of their own choosing in which their free license to expression keeps them challenging an audience long used to taking them as they come.
They may yet out run the legacy of the trinkets that made them famous.
