You’ll be aware of the expression “over before it even began”. Possibly never has it applied so aptly to a popular music combo as with Scot 6-piece The Royal We. A brief history, then. Jihae Simmons headed over from her native Los Angles to Glasgow in 2005 in search of the pale-skinned, tatty ‘n’ twee, semi-romantic coy wonderland she had heard sketched out in Belle & Sebastian songs. Crud once drove through Glasgow and saw little evidence of this promised land, but perhaps we didn’t look hard enough – and to be honest we were probably too busy trying to work out which way up the map was supposed to go. But Jihae seemingly did find what she was looking for , initially via an it’s-so-perfect-it-could-be-a-part-fictional-passage-in-a-screenplay-for-a-Stuart-Murdoch-biopic 20 person tin-pot indie-tastic jam in somebody’s front room, and then through the more refined 5 person core that went on to be the rest of the Royal We. Sweet music was made.
Then like some mythical hobo who rolled into your trailer unannounced, got the party started and then dissolved off into the night leaving no more than a rounded impression in a bale of hay and a few headaches, she is gone, back to LA, for good. The Royal We played their final gig on the day that this, their eponymous debut mini album, was released. You know the expression “too little, too late”? That clearly applies too. To roll up at this juncture, after building expectations, with a near perfect but oh so fleeting 8 tracks, verges on a serious act of unkindness. Which really isn’t in the spirit of the high-kicking cardigan-twisting carefree joy-shaped riot of tracks contained within. There is no agenda here, other than to make some cool Atlantic-traversing noises, reflecting their make up, and dance to them verily.
Lyrics are perfectly formed, but little more than glittery props – this is not the sketchbook style lyricism of much north of the border indie. Best not to get bogged down though when the party’s over in 20 minutes – and they don’t. 3 minutes is the absolute limit here. ‘All The Rage’ sounds like The Hidden Cameras and Sleater Kinney doing star-jumps in Camera Obscura’s sitting room, ‘I Hate Rock & Roll’ (with classic line “oooh you’re sexy, like T-Rexy”) is Sons & Daughters rough and Kenickie shouty and ‘French Legality’ is Stars In Your Eyes Blondie as done by Bis with a Stereolab twist. ‘Three Is A Crowd’s drunk violin and slouched Breeders’ style take on hand-clap 60s pop and a feisty twee-goth take on ‘Wicked Game’ fit the party analogy nicely. Only the cruel curtailment doesn’t. Make no mistake – this is ace. We’re just unsure now whether Jihae is the hero or villain of this piece!