History has taught me to brace myself when approaching albums that are longer than fourteen tracks. Even at the height of Manic Street Preachers sycophantism I had to concede that 'Generation Terrorists' was a good nine tracks too long. No doubt there are countless exceptions to the rule that I'll save for a conversation down the pub, but on the whole the LPS with excessive tracks usually indicate an act without the common sense to chuck away a couple of the weaker ideas.
On the whole, though, The Silent Years manage to walk away from this exercise looking like they really couldn't take too much away. If you put on a bit of a variety show, then it's possibly the best way to curb my cynicism.
'On Our Way Home' is one of the most instant alt-folk songs you'll hear this year. It resonates so quickly you feel like old friends after the first listen. 'Climb on my Back' has the hallmarks of an update on Britpop, which may well be up for a revival once we get out of this darned recession and start wanting to have nice long hot summers all over again. A confident, shouty chorus that could quite easily soundtrack an Andrew Lincoln drama, this should at some point be pushed as the single to get the radio stations listening and people clambering over each other to announce that they did indeed, see them first.
They sound thoroughly Canadian at times, which is not to be misinterpreted as an insult. They're not Shania/Celine/Bryan/Alanis Canadian, they're Fleet Foxes and Arcade Fire Canadian (just listen to the ecclesiastical opening of 'Goddamm You.' They sound Canadian like The Decemberists sound Canadian, like Mercury Rev sound Canadian, and like The Flaming Lips sound Canadian. That ethereal, xylophone-happy element to them. 'Know Your Place' is a more bitter sounding affair, going from ominous verses to nigh-on distraught choruses which immediately follows 'ËœThe Sun Is Alive' which is the most optimistic fucking song you've heard in a long time.
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It's like their happy in spite of everything it's not a twee, fluffy optimism that litters this album. There are the moments of pain as well, but pain does not have to be without a killer chorus ('The World's Worst Birthday Gift'). It's well constructed, innovative pop music. The combination of infectious melodies and ideas that meander from the norm works very well. The songs are just as likely to hold your hand as they are to kick you in the balls.Â
To be honest, this could even have withstood a couple of extra tracks if they so wished. There's no sign of over-egging the style or getting lost in a sea of rehashes of the one idea. Like a good going over with mouthwash in the morning, that's this album. It also improves with every listen.
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