My Federation - Don't Wanna Die
The press blurb that accompanies this debut album from Brighton based “psychedelic electro rock” collective My Federation depicts the band as a “art rock outfit like no other”, whose sound is “uninhibited, zestful and infectious” and has evoked favourable comparisons with a surfeit of bands ranging from The Stone Roses, Supergrass, The Flaming Lips, Daft Punk and Led Zeppelin. All of which would lead one to believe that “Don’t Wanna Die” would represent one of the freshest and most interesting debut albums of 2008. However, this is not the case, whilst others have found My Federation’s horrendously overwrought ELO-esque synthesised electro pop intoxicating; I merely found myself feeling somewhat beleaguered and besieged when met with the over excited and over produced approach that appears to be My Federation’s stock in trade, the album’s insistence on nauseatingly twiddly synths, clunky guitar riffs and frankly horrific vocal layering quickly became too much to bear.
My Federation are essentially the brainchild of self proclaimed “man of many talents” Lee ‘Muddy’ Baker, who writes, sings lead vocals and produces the album and is responsible for the accompanying artwork. All of which paints a picture of a man with a looser grasp of democracy than Robert Mugabe. Of course, Baker is not the first (or last) musical despot of this nature, Lee Mavers, Anton Newcombe and Jason Pierce immediately spring to mind as examples of men who have assumed the role of tyrannical dictator in musical terms. However, with each of the three aforementioned characters, the end has to some extent justified the means. Unfortunately, in the case of ‘Don’t Wanna Die’, you get the impression that Baker would have done well to consult his band-mates or a fellow producer more often than purely operating on the courage of his own convictions. The album kicks off at breakneck pace with the title track and give or take a couple of exceptions, this is how it continues. Baker’s mantra with regards to production appears to take its cues from the Noel Gallagher 1997 vintage; such is the ‘everything but the kitchen sink’ manner in which ‘Don’t Wanna Die’ appears to have been constructed. The insipid and hilariously inept wordplay offered by some of the lyrics also appear to have taken a leaf out of Gallagher senior’s book, particularly culpable is the anti-war anthem of sorts; ‘What Gods are These’ with it’s continually obvious and uninspired rhyming couplets. Garbled nonsense such as “What gods are these, to justify these deeds” and “we flew for hours and we all took communal showers, and we wondered at the heat, as our boots melted to our feet” is enough to make the likes of Liam Fray resemble the Poet Laureate. Thankfully, Baker seemingly recognises his lyrical flaws on ‘It all comes clear’ in which he appears to have an epiphany and in a rare moment of clarity sings “For a man who talks too much, you’d think I’d find the words. But the truth is hard to write into a song”. The track itself appears to hit the nail on the head with regards to My Federation’s shortcomings. It starts promisingly but in the absence of any additional ideas, is soon once again drowned in an ocean of over-production.
This over-egged insistence, which is a constant feature of the record; is perhaps unsurprising when you consider that Baker cut his teeth as a producer working with the likes of James vocalist Tim Booth and Clearlake. Perhaps frustrated with creating sounds for others, he has abandoned the production chair to live out his own rock-star indulgences and whims. ‘Don’t Wanna Die’ is a confused record, it attempts to mould the more desirable elements of several genres to create an eclectic and exciting record. This is an undeniably bold and ambitious plan, but My Federation fall woefully short. You get the impression that the band feel they have made an album which welds the finer points of Zeppelin and Daft Punk, but more appropriate reference points would be Queen and ELO. Those with a burning desire for ‘psychedelic electro rock’ would be advised to wait for Kasabian’s next album (as they seem much more comfortable doing this sort of thing) or to give Supergrass’ latest offering a listen, it manages to successfully accomplish what Baker has attempted here; to make an exciting, vibrant album which takes it cues from glam, whilst maintaining a degree of cross-over potential. Baker is clearly a man with an innate belief in his own talents and much of the material here befits such confidence. For the time being though, the stadiums will have to wait until his output matches his ambition.