Europe

Allo Darlin' - Europe
released 7 May 2012 on Fortuna POP!


For any artist, the debut album is absolutely pivotal. It’s the culmination of all life experiences collected up to that point and a real statement of intent for a potential career. It’s a manifesto; a way of presenting to the world who you are and how you see things. It’s also a tremendously exciting time; countless are the artists who never made it to that first record stage, so it’s a kind of validation of your work and says what you do has some kind of intellectual merit.



Because of this, debut albums often contain the kind of hunger and naivety it’s near-impossible to replicate on subsequent releases. Allo Darlin’’s self-titled first record was such an album – at times, it seemed as though the band were subsisting on fizzy pop alone and then locked in a sweet shop when it came time to record. Allo Darlin’ had its contemplative moments too, but for the most part it was an album full of bounce and sheer joy, created by a group of people very much in love with life.


Alas, we all get older and, as anyone over the age of about 21 can attest, getting older is rubbish with very few redeeming features. Responsibilities accumulate, money becomes more and more of an issue, and moments of worry-free abandon are ever more scarce. This isn’t to say Allo Darlin’ have gone all Lou Reed on us, far from it in fact, but there’s certainly a more measured approach to Europe. It’s a record made by a band with one album obviously under their belt who are carrying the associated freedoms (studio time) and restrictions (pressure) that come with it.


The most disappointing thing about Europe is the failed attempt at a sonic leap forward. Whereas the debut record was often unadorned and gave prominence to the humble ukulele, the songs on show here have a much thicker sound. However, that’s all it is – thicker. The sound is largely the same but it appears the gaps have just been filled in, whether it be with reverb or other components. There are lovely flourishes interspersed throughout, but the climactic releases are that bit less effective and the entire record has something of a samey feel.


From its title downwards, Europe is an album preoccupied with travel and the concept of home. This is unsurprising as lead singer, Elizabeth Morris, is an Australian living in London. She appears to be reflecting on what she’s left behind, both people and places, and how she’s growing ever more accustomed to life in the UK. On Tallulah (a doppelgänger of the first record’s Heartbeat Chilli), an Australian road trip is recounted, listing place names such as St. Kilda and Bondi Beach, and she’s wondering about, “when I find you under Capricornia skies”, on lead single, Capricornia. On the other side of that coin, The Letter talks about finding, “solace in the shattered dreams of England”, and the zippy Northern Lights makes the couplet, “Jump feet-first through the snow / We’re never going home”, sound like the most appealing thing possible.


Morris’ vocals and lyrics are the strongest part of Europe. She projects a character that is adventurous and prone to whimsy, but displays enough vulnerability and humanity to ensure we don’t ever stray into twee or Manic Pixie Dream Girl territory. In truth, her presence and dexterity transform an otherwise average indiepop record into something with depth which is tinged with melancholy and becomes an affecting look at life in your 20s.


It’s a shame the production doesn’t quite match up to the quality of the vocals and melodies. Strangely enough, the meandering nature of the instrumentation actually matches the rootless sentiments and feelings of wanderlust articulated in the lyrics, though that’s far from ideal. We can all relate to the ideas expressed in Europe: big cities are simultaneously thrilling and terrifying, we’re scared of losing touch with people we love while being excited to meet new friends, and we know our memories are among the most important things we have. The giddy enthusiasm of Allo Darlin’ has been replaced by something more substantial and grown-up, yet it’s still an optimistic LP at heart. It’s just a shame that the music can’t match this progression. Europe often finds itself lacking in ideas and sticking to de rigueur jangle and well-trodden indiepop tropes.

Three

The Loves - Three
released 11 May 2009 on Fortuna Pop!

Even with, or perhaps because of, the limitless possibilities of the Internet and the seemingly endless recommendations from the blogosphere, artists can tend to drop through the net. Take The Loves, who released their third album, the unimaginatively-titled Three, in May of this year to the glee of no-one in particular. In such situations, Wikipedia is the enterprising hack’s friend although we all know it isn’t exactly the most reliable of sources (either that, or the climate of Colombia actually is perfect for growing moon rocks).

The other problem with Wikipedia is that the pages for musicians tend to be written by obsessive fanboys since they’re the only people prepared to devote the necessary time to maintaining such a repository of information. So, it seems odd that the Wikipedia page for The Loves is - at the time of writing - hardly full of glowing praise. The Loves’ début album (Love) “attracted generally hostile press” and the band themselves have suffered “criticism from many reviewers and people in the music industry.” Be still, my beating heart…

Before even listening to Three, it’s already facing an uphill battle and you might want to bring your Big Book of 60s Influences along with you for when you press Play on the CD player. Be warned though, chances are you’ll contract cramp from furious ticking. The Loves do not seem to have one original idea between them, veering from hippie-pastiche to swirling-keyboard pop with little regard for invention. Perhaps more frustratingly though, is the deadpan delivery of the lyrics, suggesting an in-joke that you’re just not enough of a hipster to be party to.

And you know what? It’s absolutely brilliant.

No, really, it is. It may not be flawless and the constrained vocals can grate but the majority of Three is executed with enough knowledge and respect that it’s a worthy homage to its myriad influences. As a short-hand to describe the sound, imagine The Dandy Warhols, except… uh… well… good.

Opener One-Two-Three is irresistible rock and roll which pilfers the chorus from The Jackson Five’s ABC, Kaleidoscope (In My Head) races around like a marginally more focused Architecture in Helsinki, and Sweet Sister Delia is a power pop classic in the making. Despite the lack of originality, the melodies and the quality of the songwriting is so strong that its possible lack of artistic merit hardly seems to matter.

That’s a pretty controversial statement in some quarters but when all’s said and done, you like what you like and that’s how it should be. The concept of “guilty pleasures” shouldn’t even exist; it’s a creation of the indier-than-thou tastemakers but if you enjoy a piece of music, why feel guilty about it? No-one in the music world seems to be prepared to go out on a limb and say than anything Thom Yorke puts his name to is less than perfect or recognise just how fantastic a song Toxic by Britney Spears really is. So, if you can maybe abandon your principles a little, there’s a gem of an album in store for you.

Of course, there are downsides to Three: the main example being the cloying Everybody is in Love which strays so far into relaxed, it ends up with its feet in the next camp: comatose. Ode to Coca-Cola is as ill-advised as its title suggests and no-one wants to hear a song featuring burping as percussion.

Worth the admission price alone, however, is the penultimate track: Can You Feel My Heart Beat? Over a palpitating drum beat, a sparse Hammond organ plays a simple hook and female vocalist Jenna purrs her way through a seductive call to arms. It’s an effective track given room to breathe and has just the right amount of momentum to take it from one phrase to the next. You’ll wish you were the subject of Can You Feel My Heart Beat?, providing you don’t mind being described as “a motherfucking sweet-as-fuck panic attack” (and let’s face it, no sane person could object).

Not everybody can be as groundbreaking and inventive as Aphex Twin, but then again, you wouldn’t want everybody to be. If you can concentrate on what’s important - the actual songs - then you might just find one of the great underappreciated albums of the year. If that ends up being the case, maybe you could edit The Loves’ Wikipedia page; it could certainly do with some, well, love.