Awkward indie storytelling from London foursome
The magic of lyrical storytelling is in giving the listener just enough that they can build the rest of the story themselves, without giving so much as to be too literal, nor too little as to be obtuse. So The Brute Chorus fall here. “She was always cool/wore her sunglasses in bed/she was always cool/’til I turned off the light,” could be forgiven were it not for the fact that these lines are the climax to the story; he having been saved from the belly of a whale before escaping somewhere with her. What her sunglasses have to do with it, nobody knows. Otherwise this is innocent enough; a kind of Razorlite-lite. An attempt is made at the spiralling, meandering stories of Johnny Borrell from their first album, but without the coherency to piece it all together. Musically it’s urgent enough but without the killer hook or climatic moment to demand repeat listens.