One minute 9 seconds of accapella noodling provides the moment of calm before the storm and then what becomes is pure non-stop Prozac-fuelled mayhem all the way for Scouse student trio THE WOMBATS during their first full-on psychotherapeutic punk-pop odyssey.
All hands remain constantly on deck as the take-it-to-the-bridge approach typical of a three-strong ensemble kicks out in waves of unremitting abandon:
‘This is no/Bridget Jones’ insists lead vocalist Matthew Murphy as his eyes roll towards the sky during full-pelt 14th floor debut single ‘Kill The Director’ as it tears along at breakneck speed - urged on the attack with twin-guitars and backing vocal cries of encouragement that go “Go, Go, Go!”,
Later on the crashing momentum of their latest single ‘Let’s All Dance To Joy Division’ holds the fixated grin of the synchronised swimmer in place despite the tale of drunken abandon
The insomniac melting pot of earlier release ‘Moving To New York’ grinds and groans under the weight of perpetual optimism, but the album tracks, many of them live favourites, all have the same addictive quality. The booming off-beat of ‘Lost In The Post’ melts and shimmers amidst mantras that are alive with wild barbershop harmonies and the dramas shift from the kitchen sink all the way to the gutter and back.
Killer lines lurk everywhere along with bare threads of distressed guitar as flashes of pop perfection glitter like gems in the sunshine:
“Upper-class thugs take middle class drugs and we all get lowered in size” rants Murph uncomfortably from the Shakespearean shadows as he breathes nightmare paranoia through ‘Party In A Forest’.
“I saw her slam back tequilas like Oliver Reed on an Irish stag do” is another gem from the paralytic torch-song ‘Little Miss Pipedream’ as it echoes with unrequited love and a distant crash-bang before fading out to sleigh bells and a shrug of the shoulders.
‘Here Comes The Anxiety’ holds off the loneliness in 4/4 time before the panic sets in and the track is sent skittering under the paralysing weight of expectation. Steeped in fuzzed-out guitar, the accelerating tempo matches the palpitations as blotches of darkness come with the drain of blood from the brain. Likewise, ‘Backfire At The Disco’ is swept along by an ever-gathering momentum that charges headlong into several heady and helpless crescendos.
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Live favourite ‘Dr Susan Mattox ph.D’ is an undoubted high point. An ode of obsessive proportions that reaches scary levels of happy-pilled out devotion, it’s also conducive to true understanding as the doctor/patient thing is twisted into a drooling and ever-escalating fixation
The metallic keyboard sounds make the record bounce everywhere they can be heard, generating a ‘boing-boing’ that lifts the 100mph stomp ever higher into a state of frenzied excitement, but the whole affair has accomplished touches that subtly add depth to these deceptively ramshackle songs
My First Wedding argues with itself until craziness sets in and all reason is lost, along with self-control as the protagonist tries and fails to overcome huge doubts during pre-marital jitters that cause waves of panic under the harmony-rich outro
A gentle thread of the piano’s high keys makes for a gentle ‘secret’ track that skits in long after the music proper has stopped. This album ploughs through daytime TV dreams fuelled by relentless musicianship and shameless optimism, drawing you in as the drama unfolds in rapid fire fits and starts. Their live act is compelling and hell-bent on grabbing your attention – this astonishing debut album likewise will leave you breathless, for THE WOMBATS have matched the energy of their stage shows superbly with this addictive and highly strung record.
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