Gambling is the leisure pastime of the devil, obviously. Wicked, addictive, packed with false promise, bright colours and short-lived fulfilment, it’s the full-blown commercialisation of sin, the scourge of the vulnerable, and it’s coming to a town near you soon with bells and neon bolted on courtesy of our government. Now, say thank you. We’d never endorse the act of gambling (and that includes watching bloody ITV after midnight), but if you were going to have a bash you could do worse than to follow this lot’s lead. They’ve had payouts before on the pop slot machine of ruthless creativity, they’re adept players of chance, they know that to play it safe means to surely lose. And after a year away jabbing ‘nudge’ relentlessly the science is in place and they appear nothing short of unbeatable.
‘Tones Of Town’ is indie’s one armed bandit of the infinite jackpot. Their eponymous debut had them down initially as the gaunt cousins of fellow North-East alt-nu-wave giants The Futureheads and Maximo Park, but emerging as light-footed, agile, often better-dressed and occasionally more engaging competitors, with only their stamina failing them. This follow up doesn’t only come through and win the heat with boosters on, it confidently bursts through Sunderland’s borders to become simply one of the most sparkling and creative UK indie-pop records of the decade. Their strength is to always blindside you, to always be in possession of a stronger hand than you though possible. And they do that 11 times over this time, no exceptions.
Those harmonies, just bathe in those rich, elegant harmonies for a second. They’re draped and suspended from every pillar and post. We’re talking vocal harmonies from The Who, perhaps indied up a notch by Teenage Fanclub, song posture, backbone and string sections from The Beatles at their most latter-day pert and a pulse powered by The Jam. And yet for drawing on all those classic influences, and drawing on them honourably, they’re far from bogged down in retro treacle. Things stay snappy like peanut brittle, ideas rattling around like a catapult fired in a small tin box.
These are staggeringly arranged pop songs, lush, languishing in depth, that leave you little time to catch your breath. ‘Closer At Hand’ is The Who’s ‘Who Are You?’ carved up by choppy strings tripping into the bridge from ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’, ‘Give It Lose It Take It’ is Kings Of Leon dethroned by Super Furry Animals, and ‘A Gap Has Appeared’ is all ‘Eleanor Rigby’ in its vocal/strings stylings, yet propelled forward, as much of the album is, with the crispness and brimming suss of The Shins with a North East accent. Which, incidentally, gives the consistently emotive trigger lyrics real balls. Every combo within that realm is hit and every hit brings currency spilling freely as a reward. Currency you feel they’ll be deservedly spending for years.