Hot Water, Lines & Rickety Machines
Back in the day you needed more than a tear jerking childhood and the ability to hold a note whilst smiling like a gibbering fool to get a record deal. Now it seems an ill-fitting trilby and skinny black tie will suffice. Yet whatever happened to intelligence in indie? When did perspicacity become removed from pop? Simply, when did so many bands become, well, dim.
Early signs from Pope Joan seem to rectify the plight. Firstly, the moniker carries some historical, albeit supposedly fabricated, weight as Pope Joan allegedly reigned briefly in the 850’s. Though it could all be anti-Catholic porkies, the legend is proposed as a film due for release next summer. Already a history lesson included and the album itself awaits discussion.
Incendiary opener 'No TV' begins with a bullying volley of questions, jolting its audience into paying full attention. Becoming sceptical of society and its zombie nations is one thing, but Pope Joan rapidly set about addressing apathy with a series of searing guitar screeches and ebullient vocals. Few opening tracks set the tone with such intensity.
Following on, '49 Years Time' seems a bit too excited for its own good and for all their accomplished efforts, the end result sounds rushed. Beats fall in and out of sync leaving the synths to sound as if applied by a toddler attempting to play along. Recovery occurs soon enough with 'A Length Of String', proving that Pope Joan can marry confidence to gratifying, subtle levels with the track bearing similarity to Yeah Yeah Yeahs‘ 'Y-Control'.
For all their manic artistry, delve a little deeper and there is method to the, albeit sublimely well constructed, madness. 'Nothing Is Too Much' could easily hide behind the dense layers of angular guitar yet carries a well proposed rant against suburbia with its well publicised burdens of benefit fraud, divorces and tramping your neighbours assets. In effect, the track could easily soundtrack the average antics of a Jeremy Kyle show.
Barely halfway through the album and Pope Joan have already ousted most bands gross output for social discussion. 'Our Cuisine' carries a similarly thought provokingly potent message, exactly why society is so quick to adopt foreign culture yet could still carry underlying xenophobia.
Respite from the band’s preferred spiky and brash method of delivery arrives finally from An Alternate Route To The End. Imagine a mournful poem set to a sparse drum beat and simple guitar, subtle yet at times chokingly so.
Closing track 'Pocket Of Change' sees a return to the quirky, catchy antics of before, hell, it may even be considered conventional. Therein lies the beauty of Pope Joan, on sonic value alone 'Hot Water, Lines & Rickety Machines' is a rewarding, enveloping listen. Condensing melodies to pack a punch whilst implicitly holding opinions that few acts would go anywhere near. Entertaining as well as educational, lessons should be learnt.