Month of July , 2005

Art Brut
Bang Bang Rock & Roll
2005 | Fierce Panda

"Honeypie, I don’t know when it started, stop buying your albums from the supermarket."

I'm in line and behind me is a little built-in speaker and a touch panel with large buttons that alternately blares new age, soul classics, Frank Sinatra, New Orleans jazz, and "forest music" depending upon the taste of the last lady looking at the loofah stand right next to it.

Mood music. I'm at home and in the morning we put Celtic music on the radio when we aren't paying attention and making pancakes. It seems that as listeners we humans have a tendency to let certain things flow gently through our ears and brains and back out.

Art Brut, a quintet from the UK, willfully defy this notion: Singer Eddie Argos has a voice that only his mother could love, but his brash speak/sing wavers effortlessly between casual confrontation, deft playfulness, and shameless self-deprecation. His supporting band aren't the most talented musicians on the planet, but they shift styles and moods to suit Argos' words with surprising agility. The results are nothing short of one of the most exuberant rock albums in recent memory.

The record opens with semi-hit single "Formed a Band", a song that is both brilliant in its economy and cheerfully meta, as the whole group joins Argos in a chant "Look at us! We formed a band!".

"My Little Brother" follows and is part of a quartet of songs on Bang Bang that gleefully dissect holier-than-thou rockism (see also, "Modern Art", "Bang Bang Rock & Roll", and "Bad Weekend"). "Brother"'s breakdown is the payoff ("He made me a tape of bootlegs and B-sides, and[...] every song on that tape said the same exact thing").

Art Brut are not afraid to make fun of themselves as well, as a few of the songs are rather bitingly self-deprecating. "Rusted Guns of Milan" explores impotence with equal parts embarrassment and apology, and the protagonist of "Fight" reveals his true cowardly nature during the bridge.

The eruptive title track marries these notions well as it veers between choruses spinning wildly out of control and simple verses. Argos delivers three verses, one each about sex, drugs, and rock and roll, then goes on to denounce songs of that ilk exactly ("No more songs about sex, drugs, and rock and roll. It's boring.")
Perhaps Argos is right, as the best songs on Bang Bang Rock & Roll are really love songs, after all. The pair of "Emily Kane" and "Good Weekend" are both endearing portraits of youthful exuberance, and also happen to be their most mature compositions.

"Good Weekend" combines a monster surf riff, fuzz bass, and the album's most notable solo guitar performance ("Go guitar, go!") with a clap-and-dance along chorus and a tale of joyful new-found love. The end result effectively pairs sexual overdrive ("I've seen her naked.. TWICE!") with sentimental naivety ("..and I think that I love her.")

On "Emily Kane", Argos sings wistfully of his high-school sweetheart over a buoyant and joyful melody. The breakdown is pure genius, wherein Argos spells out the depths of his obsession. As the song comes to a close, Argos sentiments are close to tearing him apart, the whole band hits a climax, joining in on vocals and crashing to the end.

The real testament to the power of Bang Bang Rock & Roll is the emergence of a novel concept: The Art Brut Franchise. Across the world, musicians and non-musicians alike have been inspired to take up instruments, and create their own branch of the Art Brut franchise (named like a franchise as well, e.g. Art Brut 616).

As it was in the beginning, so it shall be at the end: The best music always makes people want to start bands; the worst music ends up on the shelf at Linens & Things.