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On Beautiful Future, the customarily angsty and vaguely paranoid
political rhetoric of Bobby Gillespie's lyrics is married to a
selection of retro sounds which push the 'upbeat' button more often
than, say, anything on 1999 album XTRMNTR. Presumably the plan is to
infuse a little piquant invective - as Ben Elton put it, "a
liddle bit o' politics" - into the brains of factory workers, office
drones and old grey men whistling along to the radio. Then, rise up,
smash the oppressors, seize nirvana; a beautiful future indeed.
Except that it's difficult to get over the prescriptive nature of
such an idea and find much soul behind it. What happened to truth, and
beauty, and creating art from the heart? And anyway, isn't it a little
patronising to assume that we're somatised automatons, waiting for the
rock god to lead us out of the shadows?
Bobby G is in danger of
turning into one of those grumpy, manipulative, rich old white men he
so despises - although obviously with nattier clothes and a better
haircut. Mind you, it's also possible to read the sentiments as being
directed by Gillespie at Gillespie, as a form of self-chastisement
resulting from his status as part of the rock establishment. It's
unnecessarily charitable to believe he wants listeners to rise up and
cut him down, however.
There's no doubt the band are committed to looking like they have
their finger on the pulse, with Björn Yttling, of Scandi whistlers
Peter Bjorn and John, and Bloc Party knob-twiddler Paul
Epworth, producing. CSS's pretty vacant fashion idol singer
Lovefoxxx hisses in the background on I Love To Hurt (You Love To Be
Hurt), and in what is possibly an odd nod to Guilty Pleasures, a cover
of Fleetwood Mac's Over And Over involving Linda
Thompson (folk! It's well hip, Bobby!) features.
Opener Beautiful Future clangs bells, choruses oh-oh, and stabs
simply at a jolly, repetitive piano melody while Gillespie lectures
with "you're only free to buy the things you can afford." Worryingly,
Uptown adopts a walking-pace rhythm that's no doubt influenced by the
vogue for rediscovering the '80s - yet here, the step is closer to
Scottish cohorts Texas.
Subtlety is at a premium too, with Zombie Man
conforming to the Scream's blueprint for the ugly Rolling
Stones-y blues-rocker (think Give Out But Don't Give Up, rather
than Riot City Blues). Gillespie's love of the band Suicide is
well documented, and I Love To Hurt pulses with the fast
pss-tsh-pss-tsh rhythm Alan Vega's group made their trademark.
Clich�d rawk guitar lines - guest twanger Josh Homme, consider
yourself suitably chastised - on Necro Hex Blues; washy synths on
Can't Go Back; crass lyrics on Suicide Bomb ("Black hair, dress so
tight/If looks could kill") mean it's surprising that the record has
legs enough to stand, but a honed sense of professionalism, one that
combines the themes of the band's eight previous studio albums, saves
the ensemble. The inclusion of a second, single version of The Glory
Of Love is certainly unnecessary, but may shift a few copies of said
single. Music that pays the mortgage is hardly rock 'n' roll, though,
is it?
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