Fratellis
Here We Stand
Cherrytree/Interscope
Web Site
Give the Fratellis some credit. After two massive advertising hits last year (“Flathead” for an iTunes commercial, “Chelsea Dagger” for just about everything else), it would’ve been tempting for the Scottish rockers to go forward with Costello Music, Pt. 2. And while their 2007 pin-up-populated debut wasn’t able to impress those poor pretentious putzes over at Pitchfork—what does, right?—it was a breath of fresh air to the rest of us on planet Earth yearning for some catchy, tightly wound, pop-punk goodness.
Little more than one year later, we’re treated to a worthy follow-up. Where Costello Music was largely a guitar-driven riotous affair, Here We Stand incorporates more piano and acoustic guitar. It’s not quite as in-your-face as its predecessor and the beats are more conventional, but thankfully, the infectious hooks are still intact.
OK, so it’s not Revolver. The Fratellis aren’t the Beatles, nor are they trying to be. Judging by “Tell Me a Lie” and the first single, “Mistress Mabel,” they’d rather shoot for Beach Boys status, creating strings of fun, trademark songs that can be thrown on a greatest hits collection—the kinds of cuts a listener doesn’t know or care from which album they came.
Given the uncertain state of the music industry, who can blame them for this approach? They found a formula that works, and what’s more, it’s a formula sorely lacking in the modern-rock mainstream since the once-again demise of punk and the reemergence of indie.
“My Friend John,” the opener, right away sends the message, “We’re here to rock. If you don’t like it, you can piss right off.” Reminiscent of Australian rockabilly-punk-rockers the Living End back in their heyday, the track brings back memories of a scene on the verge of mass expansion. You can see it now. Soon, 13-year-old girls will be painting their nails black, splashing streaks of pink in blonde hair and bastardizing the ultimate punk symbol: the Converse Chuck Taylor. Ah, those were the days—before all that Avril Lavigne crap went down, of course.
But the trio knows how and when to turn down the distortion, most notably on “Babydoll,” an acoustic pop blast of nostalgia you’d swear had to be at least a tad bit inspired by the Stones’ “I Am Waiting.” It’s not blatant, but rather more an exercise of capturing a longing emotion without sacrificing the rock ‘n’ roll thread of the record.
If these guys can somehow manage to offer one of these little gems every year or two—unique enough to earn their own album titles, but never straying too far from the playground—they may help fill the three-to-four-year-gap in between Green Day albums that’s becoming less and less worth the wait.
After two releases, we know where the Fratellis stand. Let’s just hope they stay there.
Dirty Orange Sun
