Ok, first things first, let's get this straight: I hate The Killers. I wish The Bravery would go back to being a ska band because, hey, at least no one thought they were cool then. And as for the last A.F.I. album, well, the less said about that the better.
The point that I'm trying to get at here is that I loathe this current trend for tacky, synth-heavy rock music. It's with great surprise then that I find myself not only reviewing The Automatic's debut album Not Accepted Anywhere, but thoroughly enjoying it as well.
Imagine if Devo got in a fight with Refused and a bag of hooks, or if The Kaiser Chiefs decided to stop being so god-awful and went disco punk (it's hard to use these terms and not sound like an ass), and you've got a rough approximation of The Automatic. Soaring pop hooks one minute, spliced with pumping electronic beats the next, all accompanied by guitars that suggest that mixing funk and punk doesn't necessarily mean you have to spend the rest of your time trying on your sister's jeans whilst high on E in New York. Combine this with the vocal interplay between the band's three singers and you've got yourself a pretty lively mix there.
Not Accepted Anywhere springs into life with "That's What She Said," which pretty much typifies what this album's about - verses to do the robot to, choruses to crowdsurf on. The Automatic prove that you can write songs about the guy who makes sandwiches for you ("Raoul") without coming off like some arch, cynical indie tosser, or reference South Park ("Seriouslyââ¬Â¦ I Hate You Guys") without looking retarded. Energy levels and catchy chorus quotas are kept high throughout the album without too much flagging, none more so than in erstwhile live favorite and top 5 UK single "Monster," or in "By My Side" with its almost At The Drive-In-esque intro. It all makes for some hugely entertaining music.
However, the record isn't without its problems. "Lost at Home" veers too close to the dreaded retro posturing of The Killers, whilst "On the Campaign Trail" belies its roots as a b-side and fails to go anywhere in particular. Upon repeated listens, tracks can become occasionally nondescript; a problem not helped by the sometimes overly glossy production, with synth player/screamer Pennie's vocals in particular occasionally being relegated to little more than slightly irritating yelps in the background. At present, the music seems to lack the necessary depth that would ensure long-term success.
At a time when so much British indie seems to be intent in recycling ideas that are as out of place in the modern world as the shoulder pads they had in Dynasty, The Automatic provide, dare I say it, a breath of fresh air. Reinventing the wheel they may not be, but they make a welcome change from the usual turgid fluff many have become over-familiar with recently. Plus, to anyone who thinks that Lostprophets and Funeral for a Friend represent all there is to see of the mainstream Welsh music scene, these guys make a welcome antidote. And for that, I can't thank them enough.
