They say instant familiarity is often the sign of a good tune. But just occasionally, it’s also a sign of a good tune that’s been written before. But before we start
pulling this thing apart without paying due respect to Brown’s indisputable
gift with a melody (or anybody else’s melody for that matter), let’s make one
thing very clear: the average music fan couldn’t give an earth, wind or fire
if it has all been done before. Even if the likes of Mika had arrived in a pair
of oversized glasses doing the funky chicken to an old Alvin Stardust number,
nobody would have objected. If it piqued their curiosity and had them whistling
from the moment they put on their socks to the moment they stirred their Horlicks,
all such liberties would have been forgiven. How else does one explain the success
of The Mavericks?
The press-sheet accompanying the release anticipates this muted response: ‘you
could be forgiven for regarding this as a very conservative record, steeped
as it is in songwriting values as old as rock n’ roll itself’. In all fairness,
it’s probably a plea that was first offered to the US Federal Court by George
Harrison’s defence team when they admitted liability for virtually reproducing
The Chiffons ‘He’s So Fine’. ‘Sorry, your Honour, but our client didn’t
steal the song, Mr Harrison was just responding to a songwriting tradition as
old and as conservative as Methuselah’. Does it wash? Not entirely, but
it’s as good a way as any of preparing the listener for a surprisingly easy
listen. ‘Love Will Find You’ does its best to resurrect the
spine-tingling riffs and hot flushes of fifties legends, Orbison and Spector
but the lukewarm production credits and the flaccid kick beats are more ‘BMI
Baby’ than ‘Be My Baby’.
Of course, Richard Hawley proved there was a market out there for perfectly
oiled and well-quiffed easy-listening, but as pleasant and uncomplicated as
tracks like ‘I Still Want You’ and ‘Holding Back The Night’ clearly are, they
don’t quite share the same rough charm as the lavish Sheffield bruiser (even
though Brown attempts to fill this void by concocting some ludicrous claim about
being a reformed ‘bare-knuckle fighter’). And of course, there are absolutely
no excuses for ripping the guts out of the Boudleaux and Felice Bryant classic,
‘Love Hurts’ (‘Nobody Cares’) and re-stuffing it with Jeff Lynne’s innards.
The production is partly to blame. Bernard Butler (yes, him out of Suede) produced
the record but rather than repeat the same tumultuous throwback touches that
made his work on Duffy’s ‘Rockferry’ such a bone-rattling treat, he instead
creates a canvass that’s as soft and as fluffy as a shag-pile carpet in a drag-queen’s
boudoir. It is also terrifically flat.
If a trainspotter’s guide to the production mechanics of 1950’s rock n roll
bangs your drum, then it provides some more than adequate beats. But in terms
of cloning, it makes Dolly the Sheep look like a one off.
Suggested downloads:
‘Teardrops in the Rain’ ~ Findlay’s nets of wonder chase the bright,
elusive butterflies of love. Capable of buckling the knees of Bob Lind and fellow
tough Yorkshireman Hawley.