Review: Build A Rocket Boys! by Elbow

After the relentless adulation piled onto their previous record, you'd forgive Elbow for using the next release to sit back, to churn out the same twelve/thirteen tracks (depending on what version you picked up) but just in a different order. But Elbow are far too savvy, far too classy and have been working far too hard since their formation in the early 90s to try to pull that particular musical trick. So no, Build A Rocket Boys! is not the same as The Seldom Seen Kid, nor is it a jarring swerve out into the unknown, and in there lies its strength.

Unlike many bands who hit the big time, Elbow don't revert to regaling us with well worn tales of hacks, fans, and the difficulties of the fame and recognition. There's no Mr Writer, no Journalists Who Lie, no grandiose grandstanding of how hard it is when you have a few hundred thousand in your back pocket. Guy Garvey instead, sticks, rightly so, to the relatable. The stories of love, loss, friendship and society that shape our lives and build emotion. You will find no bitches and bling, no groupies or tour bus stories, here. And it all makes for an enthralling collection of songs.

Stand out track 'Lippy Kids' is a classic Elbow composition. Gentle synths give way to stirring strings as Garvey laments the demonization of today's youth, hanging on street corners, smoking cigarettes, with their 'simian stroll and hour long hungry kisses.' It's not an 'in your face', hook-ridden track but it's catchy in it's simplicity and beauty, and the rest of the album proceeds in similar vein.

In any other hands, the concepts and the ideas would seem mawkish and sentimental, see 'With Love' 'when your dentures prevent your smile/these adventures will/fill your eyes with love', but Elbow provide such honesty and reality to the proceedings that it's hard to not be dragged into it. And Garvey's voice, a physical manifestation of a melancholy bear howling at the moon, adds true depth and heart to each and every word that falls gracefully from his mouth.

If there was any track that could be classed as 'radio friendly' it would 'Neat Little Rows', and even then the lyrics, abstract and metaphorical 'Oh lord/landed gentry line up behind me', make this a not-so-straight forward slice of rock to chew on.

We travel through stories of lost dreams and a lost relationship on the delightfully low key 'The Night Will Always Win', 'well did you trust your noble dreams/and gentle expectations/to the mercy of the night/the night will always win.', to drunken ramblings to a stranger on the touching 'The River' 'I told him my sorrows/and broken down dreams.' and finish with a shimmering ode to friends in the aptly named 'Dear Friends', 'dear friends/you are angels and drunks/you are maji/old friends.' It's a tender, touching finish showing that Elbow don't need bombast and gimmicks to get into your heart.

No, there is no rabble rousing stadium anthem like 'Grace Under Pressure' or 'One Day Like This', though 'Open Arms' comes close,nor is there any foot stamping blues like 'Grounds For Divorce'. They haven't made a record to please their record label, nor to please the critics. This is a band record, a fans record.

It's the music Elbow would have made regardless of the fame, fortune and exposure. And that in itself makes this a damn fine record

9/1o

Must Listen: Lippy Kids, High Ideals, The Night Will Always Win

Can Skip: The Birds (Reprise)

Prod..

Still alive... mmmm yes.

Do You Pay A Balance Off Every Month?

Well after several months of hating the world and generally everything in it, I have emerged from the other side unscathed, kind of..

But anyway, life is better. A hell of a lot better. I was just a bunch of cracked eggs, now I am omelette with extra cheese in the middle and everything.

I have left my job at the 'Well Know High Street Bank' (I am not allowed to give their name as I signed a 'Secrecy' Agreement meaning I can't go around telling everyone how shit aforementioned bank is in the public domain. But it is safe to say that everyone knows who they are because they seem to make the news every other day about something or other). It was, quite frankly, the shittest job I have ever been in, even beating my first job as scummy fitting room person at 'Well Known High Street Store' at the back end of 2005. The only saving grace being the colleagues, most of whom were a delight. Apart from that it was pure torture. A soul destroying, energy zapping, mood crushing pile of shite. Customers were either rude, obnoxious or thick, or a potent combination of all three. Shop workers were undeniably idiotic, especially weekend staff whose IQ hovered dangerously low towards single digits, and vastly unhelpful. The managers, bar a couple, were a bunch of halfwitted slow pokes who liked nothing better than to sit at their seats pretending to type or make important phone calls, when they were, in fact, on the phone to their parents/babysitter talking about bringing some fish and chips in for later.

I would have gone mad if I had stayed there. Mad being certifiably insane, and with a slight possibility of murder thrown in for good measure. I'm not a homicidal maniac, but some days I would sit and glare at my manager and wonder whether it was worth jabbing a pen into the side of his head, at least then there would have been one less oxygen thief in the world.

But I digress, I am out. Jumped ship. And now I have a month off before I start my new job at 'Well Known Insurance Company' in October. Probably be another banal and mind blending job, but it's better than sitting and picking my nose for the rest of my days. I think.

I just want a job in a fucking bookshop. That's my dream. A dusty old bookshop ála Black Books. But with a sober manager.

Being single has been odd to adjust to after over four years of seeing someone nearly every day. But alas, the dust has settled. I'm comfortable now, I've adjusted, admittedly still a little annoyed that I wasted so much time for nothing, but I am being all zen about this shit now. No point in being angry, just take a deep breath a carry on.

And on that floaty, somewhat meaningful note, I'm ending this. Too much ramble is rambly

A Swift Change of Direction

Amazing how in the space of a few days, everything that you have built up can just come crashing down around you.

You've gone backwards and your stuck somewhere you don't want to be stuck in.

And no amount of boozing and chatting can make you get past the fact that there is really nothing worth your effort any more.

You've spent too long putting effort into things that yield no rewards. There's never anything to be found at the end of all the hard work and toil.

Something positive, something to acknowledge that you tried so fucking hard, that you did your best, is what you hope for.

You're pretty sure you won't get that.

Always Surprised

Just when you think you hate something as much as you can possibly imagine.... it goes and shows another facet that makes you hate it even more.

What a load of old fucking shit.

Hope Is A Fickle Thing

So 2010....well, all I have to give you so far is a swift flick of the middle finger. You, 2010, promised so much but unfortunately you have delivered very little. A job, yes, but not an enjoyable one. I have yet to get a haircut or a pair of jeans.

The only thing this year has given me so far is two new bras and a bus pass.

So come on sir....buck up your ideas. Throw a little joy and relaxtion my way otherwise I will royally fuck you up.

Decision...

I need to book a docs appointment for Tuesday.......if I remember.

:/