Review: The lack of imagination behind the titling of Veruca Salt’s fourth studio album is reflected in its overall sound. Upon its release in 2006 – twelve years on from the band’s debut – there remained only two constants in the VS camp: the relentless pursuit of the fuzzy 90’s alt-rock aesthetic that had long been their bread and butter, and the presence of singer/guitarist Louise Post. The implosion of the group’s original line-up – completed by singer/guitarist Nina Gordon, drummer Jim Shapiro and bassist Steve Lack – was followed by 2000’s Resolver, a deeply vitriolic collection of songs that wore its vengeance-seeking credentials on its sleeve with tracks such as “Officially Dead” and “Used To Know Her”. Sonically, IV may pack as hard a punch as its predecessors, but the overarching tone is surprisingly fun and hedonistic.
The chorus of thrash-happy lead single “So Weird” – “You don’t know me / you don’t own me / you’re just passing through my life” – may sound distressingly similar to something Ashley Simpson would have recorded at the height of her success, but there’s an irreverent bent to the verses that make it a worthy spiritual successor to previous singles “Volcano Girls” and “All Hail Me”. Listeners may be more intrigued to learn what exactly “texting vegan sex again” entails than they are by the stop-start riff, but it nonetheless makes for an arresting opener. The momentum’s maintained by “Centipede”, which may very well be the most adrenaline-fuelled track any member of the band has put their name to, and the misfiring “Innocent”. The latter’s blend of cruel lyrics (“We’ve got a cutter in the bathroom / She kinda busted out of high school”) and churning guitar evoke an effectively sleazy fleapit atmosphere, but the lazy chorus disappoints. The excellent “Damage Done” tackles related themes, but with fuller production, tough, frenetic riffs and a snarly, stuck-up vocal from Post.
5. Mutya Keisha Siobhan – Flatline, TBA
Before being swallowed into an never-ending maelstrom of pushbacks and false starts, it seemed like the S.S. MKS was in pretty competent hands. The girls’ story – that of three girl group members who were each alienated from a once-credible British institution over a period of nine years – was as hipster-friendly a narrative as anybody who performed on CD:UK could ever hope for. A sly A&R team hooked the trio up with a clutch of hot-property producers including Sia, Naughty Boy, and Dev Hynes, who gained notoriety helming acclaimed tracks for Solange and Sky Ferreira. “Flatline” chases the sleek, disenchanted 80’s sound of 2012 favourites “Losing You” and “Everything Is Embarrassing”, but rather ironically lacks the sugary energy of either.
The opening lyric of “Don’t say it, no / Please wait till were sober” is delivered with a depressed choke by Siobhan Donaghy, whose own 2008 solo album “Ghosts” would be the most obvious reference point were it not also so obviously inspired by the work of Kate Bush. Hard, thundering drums and riotous male-led battle cries evoke memories of “Hounds of Love”, although it appears someone onboard was smart enough to corroborate “Flatline” against a checklist of the original line-up’s own idiosyncrasies. Mutya Buena’s gravelly tone and Donaghy’s verbose lyricism both make appearances, while Keisha Buchanan’s trademark adlibs draw a devastating break-up anthem to a strangely euphoric close.
4. St. Lucia – Elevate, When The Night
This is St. Lucia’s second appearance on our list, and it’s a tribute to the South African-born musician’s range as a performer that he can just as easily put his name to a relentless EDM banger such as “Modern Hearts” as he does to more organic fare like this. That’s not to say “Elevate” is lacking in thrills; conversely, it’s something of an aural carnival. Gilded synths swirl like an ice cream van’s siren, while swathes of electronic fuzz aim to leave your head swimming. The ecstasy of the song’s production offers a distraction from the dark subject matter; “Elevate” is ostensibly a love letter to a rather tragic character. “No one / elevates you / elevates you, now”, St. Lucia (née John –Philip Grobler) belts throughout the song’s chorus, presumably to a loyal if despondent friend. It’s tempting to see the irony of such a lyric being used as such a soaring, undeniable hook, but perhaps that’s the point; sometimes a song isn’t enough.
Not that you’ll be focusing on subtext by the halfway mark. The real magic of “Elevate” comes with the arrival of a morbidly obese bassline, squalling trumpets and a barely intelligible chant that dominates the track’s denouement. If it sounds like a mess, let it be known that this flourish is achieved with a stupefying sense of elegance, resulting in a song as colourful, bittersweet and regrettably brief as life itself.