Archie Bronson Outfit, Coconut

Archie Bronson Outfit, Coconut [Domino]

Reviewed By: Chris Polley

In music criticism, there are but two truths: 1) everything is subjective and 2) there’s too much friggin’ music to review out there. So especially for a more small-scale DIY enterprise like AudioSuede, where there’s only 1-2 proper reviews per week, I’m often left stuck on what the hell I should spend two-ish hours listening to and writing about. Thus far my instinct has been to only write about the new albums I actually care about, which has been sparse enough to match my review output. But today I sit here, having found records that I love in the past couple weeks, yes, but none of which are by today’s ADD standards, “new.” So here I am, randomly picking a recently released album as if I were blindfolded and thrown into the abyss of zip files that is Al Gore’s Interweb.

The record that I came out of the murky darkness with is one with a bright yellow cover, a reputable record label in tow, and a past that I think I remember, but only vaguely.  I never heard the British trio Archie Bronson Outfit’s debut Fur, but I do distinctly remember two things from way back in 2006 when I encountered the band’s sophomore outing, the kinda awesomely/insipidly titled Derdang Derdang. And that in and of itself summed up the band quite nicely: it’s fun to say out loud, but that’s about it. That is, the record was fun for a listen or two, but that’s about it. Dirty, crunchy pub rock with a thick veneer of self-serious rigidity was their game, and the pleasure one could glean from such a formula was a fleeting, albeit satisfying mixture. The hooks were there, but buried under muddy texture and style, and so I largely forgot about ABO.

Fast-forward to last week when I stumble upon the new release, with the way more eye-catching and curious album cover for Coconut. Before even pressing play I thought to myself, hmm I wonder if these guys learned how to have more fun with their guitars, drums, and warbling. The answer, as suggested by the first truth of music criticism, is both yes and no. The opening stagnant riff of “Magnetic Warrior” is covered in crust, but pops and flashes more than anything did on Derdang. And while I like to think this helps progress the band in some way toward some kind of better-rounded and more enjoyable act, I can’t help but point out that Tim Goldsworthy of DFA has taken over the producing reigns for the band on this record. And as the songs play out, it becomes more and more obvious that if they were performed live, a lot of the crisp or bubbly embellishments would likely fall by the wayside in favor of the band’s sterile take on garage rock.

However, we must give credit where credits due. This is an album that after a couple listens starts to come alive more and more, and it’s not all due to Goldsworthy’s masterful techniques behind the mixing board. In fact, once you get used to the meticulousness-disguised-as-lo-fi layers, the songs themselves start to come alive a bit more. “Hoola”, in particular, has some fascinating curves and twitches underneath the static-filled apocalyptic posturing, showing once again through titular onomatopoeia that the guys behind the laughably straight-faced press photos actually have a sense of playfulness about them. Check the post-chorus flourishes of the guitar and maniacal-yet-controlled pop structure and you’ll see that there’s something under the surface, lurking, wishing it could be released.

And as much as I listened through the no-constraints-here mess of “You Have A Right To A Mountain Life”, I still appreciate that they tried out the saxophone. I’ll always skip past that track, no questions asked, in future listens, but it’s yet another piece of evidence that they liked to screw around sometimes, and I can admire that. Speaking of trying to let loose and failing though, it happens in spades on the track’s simultaneously worst and most curious track, disgustingly titled “Chunk”. For a song with so much flange and trippy trebly wobbling, I have absolutely no idea why it goes on for more than four-and-a-half minutes. What makes me unable to handle its atrociousness even more is the fact that it may debunk my theory that if the band imbued more fun into their sound they’d come off with some memorable pop jams, but still be able to retain their detached, ramshackle image. Instead, they just remove their brains from their skulls, place them in rooms nowhere near the recording studio, and press record.

Okay, that was harsh. Especially because there is a couple other noteworthy cuts on Coconut that suggests something other than all gloom and doom for the band. “Bite It & Believe It” and “Hunt You Down” in particular may both have elements of the mindlessness that plagues the project, but they also have once again some nuances layers and bright spirits that are undeniably attractive to the ears. The former still stays true to ABO’s addiction to moping zombie rock but also keeps things brief, adhering to the three-and-a-half pop song length tradition and sounding tight and confined the whole time, with lyrics that play with language audibly and clearly to boot. The latter does similarly, except with a more airy tone that is both pleasant throughout its run time and ambles about just enough to sound meandering in an endearing way, never pretentiously lost or aimless.

Then the album’s last two tracks play through just like they do with every listen, always with just not enough unique qualities to merit any kind of positive or negative feedback. They have energy, that’s for sure, but that was never the band’s problem. They have a distinctly and genuinely retro sound that’s intriguing, but never stands out enough from the pack to be refreshing or nostalgic. In fact, there are refreshing and nostalgic melodies hidden underneath both of these tracks, especially the closer “Run Gospel Singer”, but they’re so slight in the face of a band that has chosen style over substance that I can’t quite dispense praise upon them. No, what this band needs (because apparently music critics are doctors with prognoses now) to truly fulfill their potential is an overhaul not by a producer, but by themselves. Cut away all the grime and grit that they might think makes them fierce and replace it with focus on what they’re good at: tightly constructed rock songs with powerhouse guitar licks. That way, I think, the fourth Archie Bronson Outfit record will not be one that just gets picked randomly by music critics to review.

Rating: 65%