The Things “Some Kind Of Kick” (Nicotine) provides a full on pummel not unlike The Jim Jones Revue album. Their relentless old school teen punk is designed to be played with the volume on tilt. They’ve discovered and forged their own identity. I think I’ve said before that it’s down to the keyboards. The result owes just as much to the first Modern Lovers record as it does to any psychobillious pshennaigans.
They’ve managed to inject a fresh energy into the common or garden take on the garage disease. Plus they have youth on their side. Maybe that will construct a bridge to lure future generations away from whatever the latest dilution of the already fetid Libertines oeuvre toward the original source. Did you watch that Cramps clip I posted yesterday? Tell me one act that you’ve come across lately that even comes close? In terms of excitement, then these Dublin kids at least have a shot.
What The Things are pushing is nothing new but then again what is? Kudos then that they haven’t just reinvented the wheel either and this particular chemistry should provide some high octane thrills for those of you that follow a particular persuasion. I hope they retain this snarl for some considerable time to come. The album closes with a reflective, relatively slow song called “Sandy Tells Me”. It fuses something of Inspiral Carpets with early Gun Club. Let’s leave calendars and time out of it and present you with the fact that that these kids have made a bloody good debut album. That’s enough to be going on with.
Talking about The Modern Lovers, Jonathan Richman has a multiple language album “¿A Qué Venimos Sino A Caer?” out on Munster. A collection of songs sung mostly in Spanish, French and Italian. Recorded at his home in San Francisco and also Tarifa in Spain, right by the Gibraltar Strait, close to Africa. There’s one exception in English, the sublime, acoustic northern soul vibe of “My Baby Loves Loves Loves Me”. As far as I know this is a special edition and what’s more there’s a limited vinyl pressing so you might want to grab that before it vanishes.
Note to self. Go upstairs and fetch the ML debut. A fitting close to an excellent musical weekend just prior to turning back into a pumpkin, or maybe that should be punk-kin?