This nation ain't big enough for two Damons...
Badly drawn-out and lacklustre, the press release says as much, an album that sank before it had a chance to swim and it's delivered stillborn to yawning shoulder-shruggers. Or just one, me. 'Oh well' I shrug.
It all went tits-up in the recording studio and Damon Gough, (the badly drawn boy himself) abandoned the original material he had going with the legendary Stephen Street. Now there's this thing, nodding in homage (or parody) at Springsteen and poorly held together by a patriotic pride that tries to pass as some underlying conceptual structure. If you want an album about Britain get '(What's The Story) Morning Glory', for being an actual part of the history, or 'Whatever People Say I Am That's What I'm Not', for describing the nation better than anyone else can at the mo.
Ah, that's not the point I suppose, he wants number ones, so it's parent-friendly, middle-of-the-road indie-kid (sans discernment) pop, polished sickeningly. Stick it next to your David Gray and Embrace... You heard me! But none of these songs will get to number one, because they're BORING. 'It's a different day everyday' how's that for a lyric? The melodramatic 'Promises' does little to stimulate the senses, even though the beat comes in with quite a snappy arrival.
The music seems to lack the ability to stick in your mind, unlike his first single, you know... how'd that one go again? Oh yeah, we just remember the video; he had a receipt machine in his shoe, hahaha. That's great...
Hawaiian guitar on 'The Way Things Used To Be', that sounds quite nice, bungled in with the clichéd words and plodding piano and acoustic strumming. Typically bits from The Beatles have been lifted and mingled with the energy of Simply Red and Toploader, nicely settling on that innocuous subtle play-it-in-your-big-silver-car-on-the-way-to-work-for-a-whole-three-months-til-you-dare-buy-another-record non-adventurous executive lifestyle side of the fence.
'Without A Kiss' has a ridiculously messy drumbeat that luckily doesn't spoil the song because it's poo anyway. There's a snippet of the national anthem at the start, after '(Swimming Pool) Born In The U.K.'; you're not going to get any football fans waving their George's crosses to it, nor any good ol' chaps on horseback ho-ho-ing to it either, maybe a chink of Ikea wine-glasses in an after-office-hours meeting somewhere along the M4.
Basically, it's the neat and tidy music that you'd expect, there's not much else to say... just wondering what Sinn Fein would make of the Irish flag next to the Union Jack under the title 'Born In The U.K.' there... Whoops, shhhh. How many words is that? Let's submit this before I collapse.
So, fine, let's talk about the UK then, there's Noel, there's Liam, there's Jarvis and there's Thom, there's Pete, there's Mike, there's Alex, and there's one Damon, and that's Albarn. Selah.