It’s easy for the cynics to dismiss Midlake; they say if they were a colour, they’d be beige. If they were a car, a Volvo. A country? Try Belgium.
Superficially of course, their music has lent some credence to those points of view, second album ‘The Trials of Van Occupanther‘ – steeped as it was in the MOR visions of the American Mid 70s, with the band’s driving force Tim Smith speaking openly of being influenced by those cred-crushing flute botherers Jethro Tull.
This ignores the singular fact that ‘…Van Occupanther’s ‘Roscoe‘ was one of the most sublime tracks of 2004, interweaving the Laurel Canyon sound with nods even further back to Crosby Stills & Nash, a stoner brio which preceded the rise of new folk mavens like Fleet Foxes. Lots of water has flowed beneath the bridge since, most notably their underplayed contribution to John Grant‘s brilliant ‘Queen Of Denmark‘ album as session men, but more recently in the guise of Smith’s departure. This parting resulted in the scrappage of almost eighteen months worth of material the previous line-up had put together, although the process for ‘Antiphon‘ seems to have been cathartic, their first effort in the post-Smith era being completed in a mere six months.
Anyone expecting a radical departure – or the snooty beige brigade – will probably be feeling vindicated after a couple of listens. Guitarist Eric Pulido assumes vocal duties, but his laid back purity means that there’s little change to the gentle ripples that have become the Midlake staple; as you would expect changes are by degrees, corrections of course rather than a whole new one. As a result for some doubtless they’ll remain fascinating, if slightly distant. The titular opener epitomises some of this feeling, panoramic keyboards from new member Jesse Chandler adding an obviously psychedelic dimension to their traditional mellow, an approach part nostalgia, part breaking the shackles of Smith’s apparently freakish need for creative control.
Where there are more slightly jarring facets they become a minor joy. Whilst ‘Provider‘ is ostensibly the band in familiar territory, the discordant second half sounds like life looking back through a damaged lens, Pulido talking cryptically about, ‘A foxhole in the ground’ as off key synths gradually hijack the song into a hazy, iridescent dead end. They’ve hinted strongly that ‘Antiphon’ is far more of a team effort than previously, and on ‘The Old & The Young‘ it’s an approach that elevates their new resolve to something of foot tapping accessibility. Chorus heavy and as un-selfconscious as they’ve ever sounded, it’s a step forward that thrusts them into Shins territory, perhaps taking them to a mainstream brink they may peek over and reflect on for a while.
It’s a point they never dare to reach again, the tougher, wig out guitar tones of ‘Vale‘ – the only song to survive from the Smith sessions – leaving few doubts that should it be required there’s a hard hitting rock n’ roll animal underneath the moss and heather of their current reputation. Like most epiphanies here, though, it’s fleeting; the gorgeous flute-infused ‘Aurora Gone‘ is built from the same Brit folk ashes of their last album ‘The Courage of Others‘, whilst the dolorous piano of ‘Corruption‘ and its slightly inhibited big room sound sink inevitably like a party about to end in disarray.
When a former mainstay decides to leave a group they had more than a hand in shaping, there’s always the nagging doubt that those left behind will be somehow intimidated into rejecting the qualities which made them great. Midlake have wisely opted not to lose their heads – or principles – and as a result ‘Antiphon’ is them sounding reborn, perky even.
Those who shout Belgium at them might be surprised to hear it, but here is a band fuller of ideas, and passion even, than ever before.
