Hefner
We Love the City
[Too Pure/Beggars Group]
Rating: 5.2
When I write my second review of the same band for Pitchfork, I
typically look back at what I wrote the first time and try to see how the
band has developed since their last release. Hefner's Breaking God's
Heart is such a distant memory now. It's like I reviewed it in the
throes of some kind of fugue state. I remember a Cockney accent singing
some catchy songs, but that's about it. My own review provides few clues as
to what Hefner might be all about. I made some puzzling and ultimately
embarrassing remarks about Belle and Sebastian, and then I tried to shoehorn
some humor in by comparing Hefner to Poison. This will not stand. Clearly,
Hefner are much more in the vein of Cinderella.
I think I understand now why I was at a loss for anything interesting to say
about Breaking God's Heart. The music of Hefner just doesn't do much
for me. And yet, because it's not really "bad" in any discernable way, I
don't have a particularly entertaining way to attack it. So this review would
be much easier to write if I just explained my own personal development and
ignored Hefner. But that's not why the 'Fork pays me, so I'm going to
do my best.
In Hefner's favor, they subscribe to the virtues of classic pop songwriting.
The chord changes line up with the melodies, which seem familiar but not
overly so, and hence, pleasant. The songs are banged out on guitars and
pianos and have saxophones wailing in the background. The subject matter
alternates between intimate relationships and the pros and cons of city
living. The vocals often break into awkward yelling mid-song, as if singer
Darren Hayman really means it (I believe he does, actually). But if it sounds
like I'm describing the Commitments as an emo band, well, if the vintage
boots fit...
That could sound more contemptuous than I mean it to be. In truth, about half
the time Hayman takes off on his pitch-challenged flights of fancy, I want to
follow him. The vocal break on "We Love the City" is particularly inspired,
as his admittedly whiny refrain of "if you don't love me," which swells
perfectly with the instrumental surge, resonates emotionally.
But for every one of those, there's a discomforting moment, as on "The
Day That Thatcher Dies." First, songs about Thatcher are why I ignored
British rock in the 80's (my beloved Smiths excepted). Second, the riff
is stolen from BTO's "Takin' Care of Business." And then, at the climax
of the song, a child's chorus intones, "Ding, dong, the witch is dead!"
These guys could learn something about subtlety from Hugh Hefner. Sorry,
this is decent pub-rock, but there are 1,000 albums released every day.
Buy another one.
-Mark Richard-San