Labels: Discount Horse
Review by: Joe Callaghan
I was out of control when I was 18, as I boasted an ardent and relentless folk punk phase. You bet. I was a dupe for any bearded lumberjack with a cheap guitar. You know the ones who just really can’t sing, and instead of playing different chords besides G, D and C, they’d just clamp a capo a couple of frets up, and squeeze out another Best-Of’s worth of jams? They were my favourite. It took a few years to realise it was all a bit too trite for me, and everything had a pretext. I was constantly reminded that it was lo-fi, or that they played unplugged at shows, or that they recorded their album in a phone box in Milton Keynes FOR THE PUNX, and it got a bit tired. I guess I was a little surprised when I heard One Night Stand in North Dakota. It’s all a bit more enclosed, personal and delicate. For once, I’m not being yelled at by some train hopping crusty because I sometimes like to watch Television and buy food from Supermarkets. It has a little bit more intellect than blanket-statement bombs-falling cereal box punk rock politics that are deeply embedded into political fad bands that barely even scrape the surface. It feels exceptionally localised and often sandwiched between personal growth and dry colloquialism. I felt an urge to listen to the Broadways’ Broken Star LP as soon as this had finished – a dear favourite of mine which I have regrettably ignored for quite some time. It’s not a million miles from it at all. It’s bitter but without a constant flurry of profanity to get a diluted point across. It’s exigent, but successfully manages to avoid the preachy self-righteousness of this ilk. It’s solicitous but never once pretentious. I guess it’s all in the delivery and its prominence over musical ability. As far as production is concerned (which I am in no way some kind of militant knob-turning studio goof) it is perfect for deliberately stripped down punk rock. The guitars sound thick, low and their polished tone is almost imperative to the quality of the record. The truth is that neither of these two chaps can really sing, but they are at their most prominent superlative when their vocals coincide. I believe they have some of their friends singing and playing in the background too which gives it great character when utilised, but the record features a couple of empty choruses that have a million percent super-rad sing-along potential. Instead, they are left alone for the one lad to battle through on his lonesome – quite often an anti-climax. Everything else on offer is very tight, well organised and obviously cleverly pieced together. Sometimes I just wonder how this record could sound if it was occupied with a rhythm section. I can imagine the hooks splashing and crashing with brush-tapped drums, and a booming tight bass. Some of the chord changes and ever so slight pauses would unquestionably profit from having the amps turned up and a number of smashed cymbals shimmering over the top and a tight, tinny, punchy snare keeping everything punctual. Maybe that’s a future development. I mean come on – Name one acoustic act that hasn’t gone full-band after a couple of records”¦ See, you can’t.