martedì 1 marzo 2011

The Cooper Temple Clause "See This Through And Leave"



Idee chiare, pezzi clamorosi, spirito decisamente intraprendente e un guitar pop che si fonde con mille altre sensazioni e umori. Bravissimi. (2002 BMG)

"A killer key change is all you'll ever need," Cooper Temple Clause singer Ben Gautrey howls excitedly on "Who Need Enemies?". This neatly sums up the vibe on See This Through and Leave, an adventurous, noisy, eclectic debut album from a Reading six-piece best known, thus far, for their "Let's Kill Music" mini-hit from 2001.
Unlike many a contemporary Brit guitar band, the Clause have, firstly, listened to a lot of weird and wonderful music; secondly, have no interest in being the new Radiohead or Jeff Buckley; and, thirdly, seem too excitable to sit on stools and strum tasteful acoustic guitar.
Consequently, See This Through.. travels from the dubby electronic textures of opener "Did You Miss Me?", through the mighty space-thrash of "Panzer Attack", to the troubled grandiosity of the final "Murder Song". Admittedly, the lack of truly killer hooklines, and the slightly predictable Liam/Kelly Jones nature of Gautrey's vocals, means that the Clause are not world-beaters just yet. But, for a first album from a band still in their early 20s, See This Through... exudes unusual confidence, ambition and skill. (Garry Mulholland - http://www.amazon.co.uk)

Glam anthems and hardcore rants. The whir of techno and the crunch of britpop. Emo-boy crying and scary stalker screeds. The Cooper Temple Clause are a wily bunch, that's for sure.
For example, their debut album, See This Through and Leave, seems at first listen to be a rotten amalgam of all that's wrong with guitar rock these days: Unoriginal genre-splicing. Maudlin songwriting.
Uninspired lyrics. Annoying sibling-band guitars. A contrived and utterly overdone ragamuffin slack-boy image. It's the stuff vengeful rock critics are seething with. At first it gives you pause. Why would anyone want to make this album?
But even if singer Ben Gautrey does come off sounding like a two-bit Liam Gallagher at times, even if the guitars do sound like they could use a little less NOFX and a little more Stooges, even if the arty-patchouli rock-boy thing has been wrung out ad nauseum . . . well, the damn album gets in your head. It works its way in there like a rare South American parasite worming through your brain.
And the only way to get it out -- naturally, in this case -- is to play the album until you're sick of it.
The Cooper Temple Clause play off their musical influences like they're writing a children's book. It's almost their schtick to make things as big and as evident as possible.
On See This Through and Leave, the clicks and blips of technology find themselves equally as comfortable as the blasted mid-range of a punk-rock guitar. In some circles this type of music -- the mixing/matching of psychedelia, technology, and rock -- is called "space rock".
But don't go trying to lump them in with the likes of Spaceman 3 or Galaxie 500, two well-cited purveyors of the art. In many ways, See This Through and Leave is a more ambitious album than either of those bands ever put out. Because unlike others of their ilk, the Coopers seem to be striving toward an honest-to-goodness, commercially-lucrative art rock album here.
It takes a certain amount of moxie to be unfashionable and then try to make that sort of thing fashionable.
For instance, some of the songs on the album go on for more than eight minutes -- not exactly mainstream rock-radio fodder -- and much like the Super Furry Animals, the Coopers aren't afraid of excess. They cram ideas into songs like tuna fish into a Starkist can.
Album opener "Did You Miss Me?", for example, starts off all slow and dreamlike, with Gautrey whispering the title and inquiring about someone's love life before degenerating into propulsive rock guitars and schizophrenic stalker yelps.
"Panzer Attack" opens with a classic grunge riff (a little sped-up) before whipping into a hardcore moment in the chorus, all deathly crunch and vitriol-soaked lyrics. And "Been Training Dogs" is a glammed out, Stooges-inspired rollicker, with Gautrey singing things like "Been training dogs / To bite your little princess" and "I wouldn't wanna be ya /'Cause we're drawing blood if we see ya".
Violent? Yeah, a little. It's that type of lyric that really separates the Coopers from the kids. Throughout See This Through and Leave, Gautrey visits themes as disparate yet connected as rebellion, rejection, obsession and, well, death and murder.
On "Film-Maker", Gautrey neatly states "Don't think 'cos you can't see me that I'm not watching," the jilted lover going on obsessively about his ex-girl's new guy. In "Did You Miss Me?", he's screaming and rubbing it in (forcefully) that he's "Back with what I got / But it's not for you / It's for someone else / Someone beautiful", and that "You'll never scream my name / She'll scream my name".
This, apparently, is the sort of thing that makes him happy. In the somnambulistic dirge "The Lake", however, he's pleading "Won't you help a stranger?" before concluding "That's a sorry sight my friend / It's not me to make a fuss / It's just that the water's cold / And I can't feel my legs".
Heavy stuff for a pop record. But in the end of it all, that's what See This Through and Leave is: an admirable pop rock effort with enough drive and hook to keep it on the radio, but enough experimentation and strife to keep it kosher with the hep crowd.
Again, at first glance it all seems like so much maudlin pablum, and if it weren't for the Coopers' almost divine aggressiveness, it would be.
But they come off supremely agitated, like a swarm of killer bees, even on slinkier tracks like the blatantly Oasis-inspired "Who Needs Enemies?" and the trippy electronica of "555-4823".
If it were possible to literally feel the aggression coming off of an album, See This Through and Leave would be fire, slow burning and sublimely hot. It'd be third-degree burns, my friend, not those wimpy first-degree rugburns that only require salve.
The Coopers want some musical honesty, and they'll take you down looking for it if that's what they have to do.
It's most apparent -- most readily apparent -- in the single "Let's Kill Music". "We dare you to mean a single word you say," they chant, before stating "It's not number one who will come out alive / It's the freak in the corner with his eyes on fire / Let's kill music before it kills us all."
The Coopers aren't killing music so much as deconstructing it, then putting it back together, on See This Through and Leave As the resident freaks with their eyes on fire, they make a good show of it.

Here they come, the young men with the unwieldy name and topiary haircuts,
waving the flag for revitalised UK guitar rock 2002.
They have last year's
most idiosyncratic Top 40 hit, 'Kill All Music' under their second-hand
belts, and a (deserved) reputation for bone-rattlingly bonkers live
performances. Still, they're an unlikely bunch.
Cooper Temple Clause don't
so much kill music as deconstruct and reanimate it like deranged Dr.
Frankentein's stitching together limbs from every conceivable genre onto a
twitching post-rock torso.
As a result, their debut album 'See This
Through...' is a defiant, often thrilling, monstrosity.
There are so many ideas crammed into this record that within the first three
minutes you'll be asking if it's the same band, much less the same song,
you1re listening to.
CTC ricochet around like rocks in a tumble dryer, and
although it1s difficult to find anything to cling to, their schizoid fusion
of influences is impressive and their energy is relentless.
The click and
thud of techno coexists with propulsive Primals rock'n'roll in 'Prazer
Attack', 'Who Needs Enemies?' is like an uglier Oasis covering Portishead,
and 'Did You Miss Me?' start sweet and spangly before ballooning into a
sinister, bloated stalker-anthem.
Throughout, there are shades of everyone
from Floyd to The Pixies, Spiritualized to Supergrass, Cheap Trick to
Zeppelin. The only consistent elements are a prodigious, agitated wall of
sound and Ben Gautrey's raw-throated vocals.
It takes guts to be unfashionable, and CTC are patently unaffected by the
zeitgeist - wearing their patchouli proudly in an arena full of Calvin
Klein.
They simply do what they do, and we can take it or leave it.
There's
no obsequious genuflection to the current vogue for trad-retro revivalism.
Some songs trail on for eight minutes plus, and there's no discernible tune
on the whole album.
The only contemporary band CTC are comparable to,
possibly, is Muse, as both embrace ludicrous excess with shameless
enthusiasm. And neither, apparently, are afraid of looking ridiculous.
While a band that manages to reference both Ogden Nash and the Moody Blues
can't be all bad, chances are they're not all good either.
CTC do have
weaknesses, and being unfocused is certainly one of them. It's also strange
that for all its emotional-sounding contortions, this records still feels so
hollow. 'See This Through...' is more for the head than the heart (though
exactly whose head is hard to say).
The only thing heartening is that such a
complex and unconventional sound can be making populist impact - not only
puncturing the charts, but landing CTC with a video spot virtually every
five minutes on MTV2 for 'Been Training Dogs'.
Their appeal may be difficult
to define, but they've definitely got it. (April Long - http://www.nme.com/)



- Did You Miss Me?
- Film Maker (Album Mix)
- Panzer Attack
- Who Needs Enemies?
- Amber
- Digital Observation
- Let's Kill Music
- 555-4823
- Been Training Dogs
- The Lake
- Murder Song


COOPER TEMPLE CLAUSE

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