Long-awaited is an oft used term isn’t it? It is one that is
completely relative. Waiting for the kettle to boil can seem like forever. A
bus ride into town on a stinking hangover can feel like three lifetimes. But
this record, St Gregory Orange’s second, fits the term perfectly.
Rhubarb Bomb first previewed it sometime in 2010. It was
then expected in Spring 2011 in time for the unveiling of the new four piece live
setup at Long Division. Another deadline slipped. Although that was perhaps the
problem; there wasn’t really a deadline. It’d be ready when it was ready.
So it feels great have it in front of me, finally. For those
unfamiliar with the band, the first record Things
We Said In Bedrooms was recorded by Tim Metcalfe in his home studio and
released in March 2009 on the then fledgling Philophobia Music. Not long after
Harry Rhodes joined the ‘band’ and work on a follow up began.
In various previews Tim had hinted that the soundscaping of
that first record would be replaced with a combination of pop songs and monolithic
bursts of noise. So the initial surprise with Midnight… is that it isn’t the radical departure expected, at least
immediately.
Songs leading gently into one another creating a sense of a
consistent narrative is the most obvious comparison. But the vocals in
particular are way more upfront that the previous record and vary greater in
style than the heartbroken mumble of album one, with harmonies and backing
vocals / counter melodies from Harry. Though the mood across the record isn’t a
monumental shift, this more direct approach will certainly allow the record to
reach more people. I don’t want to say it is more accessible because that
suggest it was designed that way. It is more a natural progression from the
bedroom based nature of the first record – both in its sounds and themes – to
something more willing to make a connection to the world outside the window.
The classic St Gregory Orange sound of the clicking beats
and whirls of sound are still present but they are joined by classic pop stings
of artificial string sections, wall of sound reverb and acoustic guitars. The
latter is the most important in giving the record a different feel. It hints at
the simplicity at the core of these songs and how they have been slowly thought
out and pondered over across a number of years. There is more substance at the
core of what is going on. Soundscaping is wonderful but it can also be lazy.
These gentle suggestions / reminders of the central songwriting at work are a
subtle connection to the more human nature of the record and are also
responsible for some uncharacteristically upbeat moments.
Blotter (Swallowing
Keys) shows another side to St Gregory Orange’s sound; bigger computerised
beats mixed in with squiggly, unsettling Kid
A effects and glitchy asides whilst the tail end of the album sees a sad
settling, a resigned sigh settle over the album which allows for some of the
most beautiful and reserved moments on the album, seen in by Sorry Is Easy’s much simpler approach. It’s
a pleasing break from the large production elsewhere, involving a gentle,
drifting piano and keyboard over the sound of people outside with the birds.
Pleasingly, Midnight…
sidesteps the trend for short, thirty minute records and confidently spreads
its wings across almost an hour of exploration. It doesn’t overstay its welcome
but it does demand care and patience. Attention to detail is the key here and is
the justification for the length of time it took to create. Sonically and
lyrically, details are hidden and revealed after many listens, but the
widescreen production and pop elements means that it is never a chore to
endure.
Truth is, I’ve not given it the time is deserves yet, and
I’ve been listening for four weeks. I’ve not even had time to discuss the
lyrically contributions. They’d probably fill a book if written out and are
rather wonderful, taking pleasure or finding sadness in the multiple wonders
you can experience in life, much like David’s
Last Summer by Pulp. In that sense it is a rather detailed but complicated
document, tied with riddles, of existing and growing up / old in the universe
right now.
And that’s the thing for me. Much of the record deals with
friendships and groups of friends finding themselves with little left in
common. It happens to us all as we grow but it isn’t usually down to some big
event. It is the tiny decisions we make each day. Like a sprawling decision tree
of everything we’ve ever done over our lives laid before us, those small,
seemingly inconsequential decisions slowly move us away from people we thought
we had so much in common with. St Gregory Orange, with their long gestation
period on this record, have done the same thing. Every ache over the
construction of a beat, the rhythm of a line or the structure of a song has
moved them further and further from their peers. The final product justifies
each of their decisions: no one else in the world could have made this record.
If Midnight… was
released by an established artist it would be fawned upon and picked apart and
declared a work of great accomplishment. It’s almost like it is too good, too
soon. Much like this review, itself a long time coming, it is long and not
always straight to the point. But after all these years I feel they deserve at
least something quotable, rather than my lengthy attempts to solve the puzzle
they have laid before me, so well done St Gregory Orange, and here you go: “A
work of wonder and endlessly collapsing beauty from one of the country’s most
unique and engaging bands”
Dean Freeman
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