Labels: self released
Review by: Samuel Fowler
When I first pulled this record out, the promo sheet was folded down, so the first words I saw were “D Beat Shakers”. I’d like to see a band billed as D-beat Shakers. However upon unfolding I saw, rather that it was a split between “Cold Beat & the Movers and Shakers”. No point to that observation really.
Ex members of The Lock & Key?! Oh, I’m being spoiled!, I’m already fondly imagining what this’ll sound like in the welcome confines of my head. Which is why I was initially somewhat dismayed. You remember the Tory Party leader before Mister Cameron? (yeah, me neither, It was Michael Howard for the record, I had to fucking WIKIPEDIA him). Well, this 7″ is initially about as brain-emptingly forgettable as that clown. TheCold Beat rehash a spot of Gaslight Anthem crossed with some standard fat-wreckery, wheras Movers and Shakers are more about brawlin’ and mixin’ it up with all your other typical Springsteen Blue Collar workers in some bar in Detroit. You know what I means.
Not a good start really. Indeed the third time I put this on, it was so unmemorable that by the time it’d finished, it took me a few minutes to remember I’d actually been listening to some music and not languidly reclined on my floor playing Pokemon. But then it starts to sink in. Somehow, and erratically, this start to shimmer round the edges and start to kick off, not so much a typical grower, more the dud Catherine wheel that unexpectedly splutters into life 5 minutes after the fireworks are over and you’re unattentive, busy scoffing the barbecued goodness.
Both bands here seem to be quite grounded and honest when it comes down to it. No pretensions anywhere to be seen. Once Movers & Shakers get going and you can see around the edges of the tired good “ole Americana hat they looked to have jammed firmly down to the ears. “Movin’ On” kicks off with a jangly country chorus, then bleeds into something that wouldn’t have seemed hugely out of place on the last Lucero album I heard, a world weary hungover voice comes crooning through thich cigar smoke. The second track has more of the same, but doesn’t stand out as much. The Cold Beat aren’t a world away, but wheel out some poppier melodies managing to throw in a few sing along sections in there, clattering along in their own little way. I think I’m hearing some Mega City Four somewhere. They’re at the best when the singer raises his voice and goes for it a little more, and it’s all the better hearing a band of this vein not have to rely on the “whisky tinged vocals”.
So yeah, this spun me around a bit. I thought I had this all sorted out in my head as a competent but unimaginative entries into two extremely oversaturated genres. But it flipping pounced on me when I wasn’t looking, and started being pretty reasonable and shit. Solid effort, and thumbs up for the neat sepia photo artwork.