Bought out of a sense of loyalty, and more in hope than expectation, but it turns out this is nearly a really good album — if you're a James fan. Because all the tropes are there: the same lyric walking of the line between desire as energy and pathology, the self-hatred turning with age to wry self-mockery, the melodic swellings, the iambic metre, the anthemic bursts. Possibly a few too many swellings and bursts, but that was always a risk with James: only on Laid did they have the courage to hold those back sufficiently for each one to retain its impact. Unlike Little Black Numbers, generally the album is mixed too loud, which smothers and suffocates its dynamics.
I do wish Tim Booth's political lyrics would grow up a bit. Government is run by remote elites, under the thumb of big business, and liable to go to war for the sake of tribal boasting. That was just about OK for a first album, but if the analysis hasn't moved on 22 years later, better to stick to the narcissistic psycho-babble — which he's always done extremely well.
I think it may still be the best since Laid/Wah Wah, though that's not saying a great deal. I see, barely 18 months after release, it's already down below £5 and licensed to every streaming service out there, which kind of hints that, once we loyal fans had got it, the rest of the world followed up with supreme indifference.
MusicBrainz entry for this album
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