Ramblin’ Band
There’s something depressingly familiar about half of the reviews of Lemon Jelly’s newie, ’64-’95. “Wallpaper music”, “inoffensive”, “soulless”: depressing, because they’re so at odds with my impression of the album; and familiar, because I heard it all before during my days as an Oldfield obsessive (the irony being that I’d use the same terms to describe some of his newer releases, but that’s as maybe).
It’s irritating to see people bag the Jelly’s packaging as some kind of “brand loyalty” exercise (when they’ve said in interviews that it loses them money, but they just like doing it) while missing the entire point of the music. Lemon Jelly, like our Mike, are all about the build and the uplift; about creating musical landscapes you’d happily lose yourself in.
Their first full album, Lost Horizons, was so effective at this that I wondered whether ’64-’95 could match it; the teaser single “Stay With You” was okay, but too much of a retread of their Peter Cetera-sampling “Soft” (not one of my favourites). What a relief, then, to find that the album itself has not just build and uplift, but real punch. No retread of Lost Horizons, but a strong set in its own right.
The strengths were all on display when Fred Deakin and Nick Franglen swung through Edinburgh on their recent tour. They played about three quarters of ’64-’95 and a good selection of their earlier hits over almost two hours. With just the two of them onstage, both spending most of their time behind the mixing desk, it was hard to match the presence of bigger bands, but banks of computer-controlled lights and back-projected videos helped compensate. It’s not the easiest music to give a “live” edge to; at times it was a bit too much like listening to the album on a really huge stereo. But the two did their best, playing guitar and cello over the samples, and even bringing on local post-punk band The Scars for “The Shouty Track”, which samples one of their songs.
The only wallpaper that tracks like that one and opener “Come Down” resemble is the lurid ’70s wallpaper my grandparents had in their bathroom. Even without the guitars, these guys can knock your eardrums off, turning a non-album track like “Rolled” into a huge finale, or the mid-tempo “Ramblin’ Man” (probably my favourite of theirs) into a reworked high-energy rave-up. And through it all, there’s the sense of humour that makes them so much more appealing than their snoozatronic peers. The cartoon headbangers in the video for “The Shouty Track” made the song even more essence-of-metal; the boogyin’ animals in “Nice Weather for Ducks” took the ridiculous to the sublime.
So the reviewers who gave the album one or two spins and 6 out of 10 are missing out. Lemon Jelly are making some of the most enjoyable music around today: the perfect antidote to the (often just as enjoyable, but undoubtedly more downbeat) Coldplay-influenced rock of the mid-2000s.
20 March 2005
I’ll have you know, Rory, that I purchased said new Lemon Jelly album, in deluxe cumbersome packaging to match the previous two albums, from a shop half a block away from the one I work at. Took it back to work, put it on and was immediately indifferent to it. It didn’t grab me by the music appreciation neuronal equivalent of the short ’n’ curlies, as previous releases did. And, please forgive me, but I kinda thought the artwork sucked this time round as well (I say this as someone who purely took a punt on the band from the way the covers looked - and the way the punters to whom I sold the odd copy that’d come into the second hand music shop I work in, also looked). But I will revisit Lemon Jelly’s latest offering now, on the strength of your review. And because you included gorgeous photographs.
I’ll get back to you.
Added by Dom on 24 March 2005.
On my kick-ass home stereo—and live in concert—it all sounds, well, Kick-Ass. Give it time. I agree that the album artwork isn’t as spiffing as the previous ones, though.
Added by Rory on 24 March 2005.