| Oscar Wilde cited three things "the
English public never forgives: youth, power
and enthusiasm". Since the generation
gap healed up on the HMV shopfloor, has the
age of those who create today's music become
irrelevant, too? It seems not. The exuberant
pop with which late-teenage rampagers Ash
have made their (decidedly underwhelming)
name is entirely a by-product of the trio's
age. No gimmickry afoot. Last summer, during
their first chart spree with irresistible
singles Girl From Mars and Angel Interceptor,
vocalist/songwriting linchpin Tim Wheeler
and bassist Mark Hamilton, then 18, actually
sat their "A"-levels. QED, their
music sounds tangibly different to Mike &
The Mechanics, who are old enough to be their
adjudicators. This is Ash's second album,
if you count 1994 "mini-album",
Trailer - and at nine tracks, including first
three singles Jack Names The Planets, Uncle
Pat and Petrol, you'd be injudicious not
to (the former, incidentally, appears on
1977, uncredited) - and it benefits from
having its raw power harnessed by co-producer
Owen Morris, who has so fruitfully translated
the tuneful pig iron that is Oasis. Words
informed by Star Wars, Jackie Chan and fancying
girls, Wheeler's voice imbues a Ramonic sneer
with playful elasticity, as comfy nailing
Kung Fu to the memorability mast with its
dumb "Uh oh-oh oh-oh oh", or choirboyishly
crooning his heart out on the April hit and
Single Of The Year contender Goldfinger ("Move
closer, set my mind on fire"). Before
Ash, the Downpatrick shavers (drummer Rick
McMurray excluded) were Vietnam, a fourth-form
metal outfit. Unsurprisingly then, the obvious
punk connotation of 1977 is topped by much
Thin Lizzy-esque riffola, notably on the
opening Lose Control (where guitars are twiddled
with Bill & Ted zeal) and closing Darkside
Lightside. This big-brother's-record-collection
metalese is pulled off with 100 per cent
enthusiasm; hey, these boys make pointless
distorted introductions (Angel Interceptor,
Innocent Smile) sound like fun. Nods to Sonic
Youth, Iggy Pop and The Wedding Present (whose
David Gedge aptly produced an early B-side)
further infuse the punk-metal bash, and,
even though another single is going to be
harder to winkle out - Lost In You with its
Strangers In The Night echo, perhaps? - 1977
is rich with cherishable brio and bluff romanticism.
Youth? Check. Power? Top 57 to Top Five act
in 13 months. Enthusiasm? In bags. Only the
second "hidden track" (leave the
last one to run on until 11 minutes 40 seconds),
some in-studio vomiting and giggling, is
unforgivable. |
