Imagine, if you will, Coldplay minus Chris Martin. The result
is the uncharismatic Gledhill, a Sheffield band filled with anonymous
Johnny Band Members whose music seems trapped in an age where Britpop is still
alive and kicking and second division songmeisters like Cast and
Ocean Colour Scene can still get in the charts.
Gledhill have been described as 'epic, uplifting rock'. This is
true, if by epic you mean long, drawn-out choruses and derivative power chords
and your idea of uplift is listening to Radio 2-friendly middle-of-the-road
pap. David Gledhill (vocalist and clearly immodest band leader) possesses a
truly annoying voice, which is coupled with some dreadful lyrics to sleep-inducing effect.
Gledhill's rootsy, down-the-pit, "Ain't chimney sweeps grand?" ethic is
dated and hopelessly out of touch with current trends. This is not to
say that trends are necessarily important; it's always nice to see a band
bucking the trend in music. Yet Gledhill don't so much buck the trend
as pretend the trend never happened, content to remain in 1996 forever,
and ever, and ever, and ever, and ever...