It’s often surprising how much of an effect that music can have on a listener; sometimes, albums or songs that one didn’t fully connect with before can sometimes take on new and deafeningly poignant context depending on what else happens in their life. I was as fond of the new General Fiasco [Twitter/Facebook] album last week as I am right now, writing this review, but in between, Unfaithfully Yours has taken on an upsetting new significance, for reasons I won’t be disclosing here. There are one or two albums I can think of from this year that are better overall, but the emotional sucker punch this album delivers is second to none, at least for me.
The Northern Irish band have this habit of always releasing albums at important times in my life: I had a rough start to 2010, and ‘Buildings’ spoke volumes to me when it was released in March of that year. Likewise, for me, the release of its follow-up – a leaner, sleeker, more confident album overall – is either perfectly or horribly timed: perfectly because it allows me to discuss the effects of music as catharsis, and horribly because it came way too close to home when I last listened to it. It’s always nice for a reviewer to connect with the material they’re writing about, but the relevance of this album to my life right now is staggering. I’m going to be biased, sure, but you already knew that.
The quartet’s sound has been beefed up considerably since the addition of second guitarist Stuart Bell later in 2010, and this is almost immediately apparent as the opener Gold Chains comes racing out of the traps, Stephen Leacock’s driving rhythms giving the song a palpable sense of urgency and passion as frontman Owen Strathern sets the album’s tone with his reflective lyrics: ‘Bury me, I’m sure you will / I can’t come clean with what I’m saying.’ The uplifting melodies that the band have become known for now sound meatier than before, but the emotional turmoil that’s been at the heart of their sound before has perhaps taken on even greater prominence.
Uncertainty starts to seep in on the particularly punchy Waves, as a relationship falls apart – ‘I tell you, “no more”, and you say that it’s over: at least this is something we agree’ – and the fallout is felt on current single Bad Habits. The topic of the passage of time and moving on from one’s roots has been explored by the band before, and it’s an idea that crops up again on The Age That You Start Losing Friends. Having previously declared, ‘We’re too old to pretend we’re 17’on Gold Chains, he wonders if the years since then have changed him and his bandmates beyond the point of recognition: ‘Have we really changed that much to fall so far out of touch? She said, “Don’t forget your friends.”‘
As the old adage says, you have to understand where you came from if you want to know where you’re going, but the pessimistic outlook offered on Unfaithfully Yours reckons there’s no hope of a solution. Frustration, disappointment and the drive to push on when one feels like giving up all factor into the album’s lyrics, but by halfway it already sounds like the jig is up: ‘I know things won’t get better / It’s all right, we won’t get better,’ Strathern declares on the predominantly acoustic Hollows, one of the album centrepieces. This is a far cry from Dancing With Girls’s assured tone two years ago: ‘I know things are gonna change for good.’
If the album sounds lyrically conflicted, musically speaking it’s nothing of the sort: these twelve songs are crafted to the highest of pop-rock standards, with the band even finding the time to throw in a ballad or two. After the album reaches a climax on Sleep, its central character – no doubt informed by the quartet’s own experiences – almost at breaking point (‘This person I have become / I’m tired of getting it wrong / Don’t let me out on my own / I’ve been roaming ’round for days, and all I need is sleep’), things are stripped back for the devastating This is Living, its narrator starting to question everything about him (‘You’re lost in thought, you drink a lot to help yourself, and this is living, but it’s not clear to me’) as the album builds towards its finale.
The band go out with a bang, as the one-two punch of melodically rich power-pop songs Don’t You Ever (which benefits hugely from the album context) and Temper Temper (on which the band, musically as well as lyrically, decide to go all out, even as the album’s story reaches the point of no return), they close with The Bottom, which, now in full band form, finds its emotional impact enhanced. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel: ‘Nobody will know what we’ve done to ourselves’ is the album’s closing line, and it’s the bleak conclusion to a harrowing journey. Almost painfully honest at times, Unfaithfully Yours doesn’t hold back, its often triumphant-sounding songs barely masking the sadness at its heart. It’s the kind of album that will hit you like a ton of bricks if you’re going through anything, so it’s a tough listen, but remember that catharsis I was talking about? This album has it in spades.
http://soundcloud.com/generalfiasco/bad-habits
