It’s very hard to be heartened by the world we live in, but fortunately the arts operate in their own respective orbits. Hard work or talent (ideally both, but mainly the latter) are often rewarded by acclaim and recognition on some sort of scale.
But when the former generates results, it’s all the more gratifying. Many artists get by on sheer force of will, determination, and honest graft before eventually succeeding in their field and then grabbing the chance to blossom with both hands – Seasick Steve being one extreme example, Miles Kane another.
So it would be a very cynical soul who would begrudge Afflecks Palace the satisfaction of enjoying the positivity that is being projected their way at the moment, having done everything themselves, from raising money for studio funds to politely asking Live4ever for this review. It was no PR company, but the band themselves who sent the email.
It’s not beyond the realms of possibility that Afflecks Palace have been the recipients of some sneering in their time and, on surface level, it’s logical to understand why; christened after an iconic clothing and culture building in the centre of Manchester, with an unashamed deference to the late 1980’s sub-culture of the same city (their label is called Spirit Of Spike Island), the group wear their bucket hats (literally) with pride.
It shouldn’t work, because it’s just too derivative. And yet…Against all the odds it does work, on its own terms at least. What Do You Mean It’s Not Raining? is all optimism, full to the brim with nostalgia for a time that surely wasn’t as good as history has ordained.
Most specifically, Pink Skies (‘long summer dreams closer than they’ve ever been’), all flecked guitars and wistfulness, is the sound of summer holidays put to music, while early number Forever Young is drenched in the sort of tender euphoria that would move even the sturdiest of souls, complete with snappy percussion and a smoothness that betrays their inexperience.
Inexperience is subjective of course, and even despite the pandemic Afflecks Palace have put in the hard yards. The experience that can only be gained on the road has obviously been vital in honing these songs and enabling them to sound so polished.
Carpe Diem is assured and built around a confident if simple verse structure before delighting on the chorus with accompanying Squire-esque guitars. (As an aside, quite how comparisons to one of the greatest guitarists ever can be viewed dimly says more about the critic than the band.)
Meanwhile, This City Is Burning Alive has an epically ethereal bridge which gives way to a fast-paced chorus, almost as if the band know there is no time to waste in making an impression and nearly struggle to keep up with themselves.
Spinner (This Must Be Love) is awash with optimistic Madchester psychedelia (‘the kind of love you see on the silver screen’), while Ripley Jean is positively relentless in its jauntiness, bouncing and careering along like there’s nobody watching.
There are deviances from the north west formula; We Can Be The Avalanche comprises incessant drums and west coast, windswept guitars, which itself was an influence on the Roses but at least Afflecks Palace are doing their homework.
Meanwhile, On And One is built around a growling lick and, rather wonderfully, stoic whistling. It also features a lyric which fits perfectly as the band’s motto: ‘Bring on the sunshine, we dance in the rain.’
So shimmeringly sun-tinged that it’s almost golden, the only real drawback from What Do You Mean It’s Not Raining? is that it’s released at the wrong time of the year.
