It's a tough proposition balancing pop sensibilities with a lo-fi, punk ethos. The Cribs' first two albums showed general disdain for anything as commercial as 'production values,' sounding as if they were recorded in their dad's shed on a dictaphone.
Nevertheless, the tunes shone through (and what tunes they were). Has there been a better sneering indie anthem than Mirror Kissers in the past two years?
And now the Wakefield trio have hooked up with Alex Kapranos. Match made in heaven? Well, yeah! The guitars actually shimmer now that the Franz man is behind the desk, but the throat-shredding, Gallagher-esque chorus ensures any fears of the lads losing their razor-sharp edge are quelled.
With the fuck-you attitude still there in abundance too (I've never been impressed by the offers from New York or London), this is essentially the sound of the Jarmans doing what they do best, while also having the balls to play to their poptastic strengths and shed the confines of indieness.
It all adds up to their catchiest, glammest and best song to date.
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