Davey Crockett was the cross-wired dishevelled teenager with all the explosive at the top of The Crocketts’ rusty indie canon. Davey MacManus, leader of The Crimea, is that bug burst out of its cocoon, turned butterfly with singed wing tips. Welsh upstarts The Crocketts were a guilty pleasure back in the late 90s, scattering crude shrapnel far and wide with a begrudging magnetism to all things dramatic and ultimately anthemic. They were never meant to last though, their rough, impulsive purpose was only underlined by their brevity. There was already a hint of songcraft, of a gentle unravelling of emotion deeper than the surface, throughout their work. But it is still right that MacManus has moved on and started a fresh slate with this continuation in his development. It makes the difference in approach quite clear.
He’s not the boy he was. He’s all grown-up. Almost. He’s shed a skin or two, and grown yet more. Impulses give way to thoughts and vivid pop ambitions. Raw angst gives way to the marinated and browned variety. It’s his existence through a frosted pane of glass, turning more slowly on a musical toy merry-go-round, psychedelic, but in focus. His acoustic-pop foundation stacked up with miscellanea, heart-squeezing melody and sprinkles of adrenaline remind to an extent of Bright Eyes with his awkward approach to straightforward melancholy. Or perhaps Mull Historical Society with his fresh poise and sharp angles, but without a lung full of fresh air.
There are some truly irresistible moments throughout the record, not least the radiant ‘Girl Just Died’ which is as bright as a bleached box of sunshine on a spring, hiding a typically dark, bubbling lyrical undercurrent. ‘Losing My Hair’ is like Grandaddy drowning their sorrows on the Magic Roundabout, ‘Lottery Winners On Acid’ is a cute steel-drum daydream with a coarse aftertaste, and ‘Baby Boom’ is a strangely romantic formal waltz draped in fairy lights. It can sound rather ordinary when it takes its eye off the flame, but has quirks aplenty to bump it back out of line when needed, namely Davey’s inimitable passive-aggressive input. He could yet turn into something special, this takes him a step closer.