REVIEW: Arab Strap, Mad for Sadness (Jetset)
- Wilson Neate
Recorded live at London's Queen Elizabeth Hall in September 1998, Mad for Sadness came out in the UK as a limited edition release between Arab Strap's second and third albums, Philophobia (1998) and Elephant Shoe (1999).
While Mad draws primarily on material from Philophobia, it also incorporates "Blood" from 1996's The Week Never Starts Round Here, as well as material from singles/eps ("Girls of Summer," "Phone Me Tomorrow" and "Toy Fights").
Crucial to Arab Strap's formula are Aidan Moffat's understated, spoken vocals. Part Jarvis Cocker and part Ian Curtis -- especially on tracks like "Here Were Go" and "Phone Me Tomorrow" -- he leads the listener on an endless pub-crawl through heavy drinking, small-town boredom, embattled masculinity, largely ill-advised and ill-fated sexual adventure, (self) recrimination and still more drinking.
While the subject matter of Moffat's low-spirited mumblings is relentlessly grim, he manages to inject his songs with an almost imperceptible irony and wit that save them from the horror of earnestness. As he has said: "You've got to have a sense of humour about yourself if you want to communicate something quite depressing."
With regard to content, Moffat recalls Dave Gedge of the Wedding Present. Gedge was the master of the hysterical and histrionic chronicle of romantic misery and compromised masculinity. Moffat retreads the same miserable ground, albeit over-writing Gedge's realism with dark naturalism; he adopts a resigned tone in the face of his environment and its (female) inhabitants.
In terms of his delivery, Moffat also evokes a dissolute Bryan Ferry, if such a thing were possible. Ferry excels at sounding like he's reclining while he sings his ultra cool, laid-back love songs; Moffat's songs of often frustrated love and lust take it further, giving the impression that he's more hung-over and laid out than laid back: perhaps, completely prone as opposed to simply reclining.
Above all, however, Mad documents how effectively Arab Strap translate their, for the most part, sparse sound to the live venue. An integral part of that process is the granting of equal billing (and more) to the instrumentation, alongside Moffat's excruciating confessional monologues. While on previous studio recordings the music has, arguably, remained slightly subordinate, the arrangements here bring a refreshing level of intensity and a measure of space to the proceedings, expanding the focus beyond Moffat's insular narrative world.
Just as Mad for Sadness particularly underscores Malcolm Middleton's glimmering, minimal guitar work that alternately hovers over and cuts sharply into the tracks, it also stresses the solid bass and drum patterns of Gary Miller and Dave Gow that coax the songs forward.
"Girls of Summer" offers a noteworthy example of Arab Strap's live translation of studio material. Its changing tempos, crashing instrumental section and thumping, clubby finale drag us out of the pub, take us to the disco and, ultimately, leave us back where we started -- at the pub -- making an epic sonic binge out of a prosaic, drunken night out.
During "New Birds" and "Piglet," the mournful -- and at times blackly humorous -- conversational wanderings of Moffat are offset with moments of guitar intensity, courtesy of Middleton. Similarly, the post-coital duet of "Afterwards" -- one of the two songs on which Moffat is joined by Adele Bethel -- is punctuated by some fiery guitar before the track wanes away.
For the novice, this is an unsettlingly beautiful introduction to Falkirk's doyens of melancholy melody and, for fans, it's confirmation of Arab Strap's ability to deliver the goods live and to provide compelling rereadings of familiar material.
