For about the last eighteen months, mystery CDs have been arriving at my home address. Not unusual for a music reviewer, unless of course, you haven't ever given your address out for people to send their music to. The first wave came from what seemed to be American vanity music companies, where individuals have paid money to have a day in the studio where they produced genre-stereotypical bollocks, then went next door to get dolled up and have some tacky looking soft-focus promo shots sent. Presumably as part of this deal, they got promoted for a month or so and then forgotten about when only their partners and parents had purchased their release and they returned, having given it their best shot.
As a writer, I have thought about this sort of thing many a time, to the point where I've thought about sacking off the 'traditional' channels and trying to create enough of an online buzz to make my career in self-publishing. But CDs like the first wave of creepy deliveries has been enough to put me off. Too many of us are too deluded about our talents, and whilst so many brilliant, creative people suffer from not having the respect or exposure they deserve, there are also plenty of asinine chumps making pure crap just because they think they're better than they are.
These CDs tailed off and were replaced by missives being sent from the UK, peaking a couple of months ago when someone hand delivered their new EP to my house. You're never going to get an honest appraisal from a reviewer when it stinks of 'I know where you live.' If I'd been a little quicker off the mark I could have chased them and found out how they knew where to find me. It would have been an unusual moment, but possibly both funny and weird. An opportunity missed.
On the whole, I've not got round to reviewing these CDs. Notable exceptions have been X-Ray Spex and The Silent Years, who both issued awesome albums that deserved a few words. In fact, these have helped me appreciate the mystery CDs a bit more.
THE KIMBERLY TRIP have topped this one. Not only have they hunted down my home address, but they have also accredited to me a review of a previous album on W&H, and thanked me in the covering letter for my "thoughtful insight." A little bit of detective work (a.k.a the W&H search engine) finds a favourable review for the Californian four-piece's 2004 release, "Catastrophic Behavior" written by Adam Harrington.
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So, then, I feel a little under pressure to offer some thoughtful insight on this myself. 'Generation Stereotype' (a terrible title, reminding you of the sloganeering activists at college, spouting on about 'systems' and 'Machines' as if it weren't tired and meaningless) is female fronted US indie rock with a dusting of punk, and some spiky, tuneful melodies. There are moments of country, and other moments of epic sounding rock. There's variety, and enough to keep you vaguely interested at the very least. The lyrics are at times amusing (the call out for a missing gay best friend on'Love in 90min' raises a smile), like an older, more approachable Be Your Own Pet. This is fundamentally a pop album, with catchy choruses and instant but not necessarily memorable riffs.
'Cliche Love Song' veers into an ironic version of The Corrs, but there are much better moments than this. You can hear elements of The Cardigans and an array of female-fronted 20th century influences. It's essentially a warm album from likeable people. It's not going to make it onto the I-Pod, but I don't resent the minutes I've spent with it. I'd argue that The Kimberly Trap are one for the ladies, and for that they're an efficient band. I'd also argue that people should listen to this and see whether they like it more than I do.
This probably hasn't been a "thoughtful insight" but I guess they'd have to go a long way to hunt me down from California.
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