REVIEW: Velocette, Fourfold Remedy (Beggars Banquet)
- Chris Hill
Nearly two years after "Get Yourself Together" earned "Single of the Week" honors in Melody Maker, Velocette's debut album lands on American shores. That song, described in NME as "fundamentally the best song never written by Saint Etienne", is one of ten found on an album lush with gentle strings and crisp guitars - blissful lounge music for cool summer evenings.
If you buy the record expecting ten variations on "Get Yourself Together", you might be disappointed. The single is a gust of drum and guitar bravura, light and airy in comparison to the heavier atmospheres of the dour "Someone's Waiting" or the album closer, "That Ain't Mine" - which isn't a bad thing. Too much lemon meringue pie ruins a picnic.
Velocette aren't wholly newcomers - the band began in/as Comet Gain. Philosophical and artistic differences led four of the five Comet Gain members to split from the fifth member, singer/guitarist David Christian: they, as Velocette, while Christian maintained the Comet Gain name and his penchant for punk rock elements and sonic adventure, a la Yo La Tengo. (Drummer Phil Sutton appears to have since left Velocette - he's thanked by the band, but unlisted in the song credits.)
Sarah Bleach has assumed sole singing duty with black velvet confidence. Her sprightly, waif-like voice combines with retro-flavored music (strings, guitars, tambourines, shakers, congas, bongos) like peaches and cream. (Multi-instrumentalists Sam Pluck and Jax Coombes round out the ex-Gain, now Velocette, cast.) The three, joined by violinists, percussionists, horn players, and others, form an impressive ensemble.
View "Get Yourself Together" as a teaser and you'll find Fourfold Remedy a rewarding purchase. "Spoiled Children" and "Reborn", the subsequent singles, are similar pop nuggets: the former an uptempo, fuzz guitar rocker, the latter introspective, breezy, and drifting, with lazy brass splendidly offering wheezy atmosphere. Another potential single, "Unkind", provides an ethereal slowburn with violins and Hammond organ.
"Bitterscene" offsets downbeat lyrics ("And I know that you're a liar/Always sick and always tired/And I don't want to be into your bitterscene") with cheery castanets. "Submarines", all swirling guitar and strings, mirrors the emotional whirlpool of the protagonist. "Where Are We?", ambles along sans vocals, a stroll past an outdoor cappuccino bar.
"That Ain't Mine" ends the album with a contemplative moodiness, setting the right note of anticipation for something further - "always leave them wanting more." Quite right. Following their instincts and striking out on their own has provided them, and us, with a handsome payoff. All told, an assured first step in their new identity.
