REVIEW: Whistler, Whistler (Wiija Records)
- Chris Hill
Whistler, formed by vocalist Kerry Shaw, ex-EMF guitarist Ian Dench, and James Topham on viola, played small shows around London in its gestative state, establishing a buzz and a fan base, keeping the limelight low and the attention on a riveting live show. After a time, they self-released the drolly titled First EP, which resulted in a gushing Melody Maker review. Signed to Wiija Records, Whistler then dropped three singles on the unsuspecting British public.
"Rare American Shoes", the first single to precede their debut album, is utter brilliance condensed into three minutes, seven seconds. From the opening notes that spring from a Jew's- harp, it's obvious something new is moving under the sun. Joined by a melodious viola, a chug-chug-chug acoustic guitar, lip-smacking drums, and Shaw's sweet, clinical British tones that ride the line between singing and speaking, it's a head-turner of a song, a "Am I really hearing this?" double take that imparts a blissful sense of justified purchase and inspires proselytizing messages to friends.
It might not be the best song on the record. The second single, "If I Give You a Smile", earned a Melody Maker "Single of the Week" nomination from Arab Strap, while the third single, "Don't Jump In Front of My Train", attained that honor in NME. And either of these *still* might not be the best song on the record.
"The End" pits a waspish electric guitar against both an acoustic and a bass guitar. As they battle, a viola plays against the rise and fall of the vocals, descending capriciously into a snarl, bow scraping against the strings, while drums and cymbals add to the chaos. Only the bass guitar remains standing, near the end. "Closing Time" tumbles an acoustic guitar about the room, until it finally crashes into strings that start at the base of the spinal cord, grip it securely, and run up the vertebrae with an piquant, orgasmic thrum. Two other wonderful songs, on a disc that, at less than thirty-seven minutes, leaves one hungry for more.
Molding the Whistler vibe, Shaw's voice is coy yet powerful, a gamine with muscles, whether venomously delivering the poison pen letter of "Emily", bubbling with mirth while skewering a sanctimonious twit on "Heaven Help Me", or taking the cavalier path on "Please Don't Love Me Any More" ("sorry if you feel/I've wasted your time/I wouldn't say/that you'd wasted mine/ We live and learn/That's what it's for/Please don't love me any more"). Her voice lends a delicacy to the tracks that the viola and acoustic guitar reinforce.
Add a cajon (Afro-Peruvian wooden percussive box, don't you know), harmonica, wood blocks, drums, and bass, and it makes for quite the heady concoction of Silverado and London acoustica.
