Tunics - Album Samplers 1,2 & 3
When they reflected on their recently completed debut (which they gave the in no-way clichéd title ‘Somewhere in Somebody’s Heart’) last autumn, The Tunics felt that that they’d emerged with (in their own words) “a piece of art”. But be warned, those expecting some sort of gauche, art-rock action from the Croydon boys will be disappointed. This isn’t to say that there isn’t anything merit-worthy about The Tunics, their ethos and their work, but it is essentially straight-laced guitar music with elements of Noel-rock, Libs-rock and hints of Arctic Monkeydom; there is nothing particularly artistic or original on show. This is traditionalist, impassioned, angsty and emotive guitar music which wears its heart on its sleeve.
What is fairly original however, is the promotional campaign that the band has undertaken in an attempt to ensure that they take their “piece of art” to the largest audience possible. The development of myspace, Generation Y mindsets and freely downloadable albums has seen a saturation of the sort of culturally relevant TV shows with their finger on the pulse, which would’ve traditionally represented a showcase for talented new bands with a dynamite live act. In the midst of such a climate, it is increasingly difficult for many bands that would’ve traditionally relied on their live prowess to make an impact and carve out a niche for themselves. In response to such circumstances, The Tunics “have chosen to focus on the UK’s college towns and universities, and win their fans on stage instead”; following their live shows with limited regional releases of the album which can then be supplanted with downloads and purchasable artwork.
Scanning the band’s promo material, web site and myspace page, this approach seems to have paid dividends to a degree. The band appear to have gained fervour with University magazines and radio stations, winning plaudits and favourable comparisons with a host of bands ranging from The Pixies to The Doors taking in elements of The Streets along the way. Whilst there is undoubtedly something laudable and in some way noble about this back to basics approach, the incomprehensibly baffling comparisons with some of the aforementioned acts highlight the flaws within. University music scenes and radio stations are not going to break a band in 2008, I am sorry to anyone I offend with such a statement (well, I’m not really), but they are not going to catapult The Tunics to mega-stardom, nor do they give the band much in the way of constructive feedback or press! Not one, but two fuck-wits who work at Uni-radio stations compared the band to The Streets. There is nothing remotely connecting the two bands, apart from a very tenuous link that they write songs about “inner city life, inner city pressures”; so why on earth would you compare the two? It is frankly ridiculous and highlights the fundamentally flawed nature of such promotional methods.
Questionable though their choice of promotional methods may be, the band’s music itself is endearingly familiar and suggests that The Tunics have a happy knack of penning melodic, emotive and endearing indie guitar tunes. There is nothing new, original or ground-breaking about this material, but it is inordinately preferable to the proletarian bollocks spouted by that other three piece who pen “anthems” about “real life and that innit”, The Enemy. ‘Cost of Living’ is an energetic lamentation of small town syndrome which showcases the bands “relentless energy” and disaffection with life in their home town. ‘Turn Away’ is the Tunics showing their more sensitive side, coming across like an acoustic Peter Doherty, the only problem being that they substitute poetic wordplay for the sort of cringe inducing rhyming couplets more commonly found on Oasis albums (“You’re in my mind, All the time” etc). The influence of the brothers Gallagher also looms large over ‘Fade Out’, not only in its Oasis-esque title; but in the sense that it features the sort of overwrought fret-tomfoolery favoured by Noel during the coke on the cornflakes years and its impassioned and infectious chorus is delivered with a snarl that Gallagher junior would be proud of. The undoubted highlight of this selection of tracks is ‘Waiting’, a dark, brooding, moody and intense epic driven by propulsive and colossal drumming it builds menacingly and eerily towards a grandiose chorus undercut by buzz-saw guitar. It is a great track and one which suggests that The Tunics may break from the pale shackles of libertine-esque imitation in the future. However, as far as their debut album goes; it seems to be unfortunately the exception rather than the rule.