THE BATS: THE LAW OF THINGS (1989)
1) Other Side Of You; 2) Law
Of Things; 3) Never Said Goodbye; 4) Yawn Vibes; 5) Time To Get Ready; 6) Ten
To One; 7) Mastery; 8) I Fall Away; 9) Cliff Edge; 10) Nine Days; 11) Bedlam;
12) Smoking Her Wings.
If there is
a «law of things» according to The Bats, it is unquestionably the law of
preservation — the band's second album does not introduce even a single serious
change to the formula. Same lineup, same twin guitar jangle, same guest
violinist, same vibes, same moods. Same crude production style, too, except
that Robert Scott's lead vocals frequently get clearer in the mix and are not
as often double-tracked with Woodward's, so you can get a better picture of the
sonic palette of New Zealand's Roger McGuinn — if you'd like to get a better picture, of course, because his voice isn't
exactly the epitome of expressivity, to put it mildly.
The album is rarely, if ever, described as a
«sophomore slump», but critical reaction here usually follows the well-known critical
principle of «If A precedes B and B = A, then A is better than B», as the band
is supposed to run out of its originally accumulated cloud of inspiration and
slip into a «regular workman» routine. It is a dangerous sign when it is the
opening and the closing track that are usually found listed as highlights —
meaning that the listener, most likely, fell asleep right after the first song
and woke up towards the end — and this is more or less what happened to The Law Of Things.
Granted, the closing track, ʽSmoking Her
Wingsʼ, which was also the single, is
a little different: if anything, it sounds like the little brother of Joy
Division rather than The Smiths, with a vague hint of threatening doom
emanating from its droning guitar parts and with an unusually stern, almost
«ceremonial» singing tone — yes, I think the late Ian Curtis would have dug
this, even if The Bats, byt their very nature, are physiologically unable to
generate those dark clouds: at best, this is just a slight patch of fog, but
even in this way, it stands out from the rest.
And the rest is the rest: average-fast
pop-rockers driven by pretty, but unexceptional folk-pop melodies and
singalong-style choruses, almost always in the same relaxed-idealistic emotional
state. I suppose that ʽTen To Oneʼ, stuck in the middle, is also a bit of a
standout — guitar and vocals pack a bit more crunch, and even Alastair
Galbraith's violin screeches and scrapes like somebody just stepped on its
tail, er, neck. But that's just two and a half minutes out of a half hour of
overall pleasant sameness. Feel free to pick your favorites — I, for one, think
that the album only loses if you begin to think of it in terms of individual
melodies. (For instance, the melody of ʽNever Said Goodbyeʼ borrows its first
chords from McCartney's ʽListen To What The Man Saidʼ — which, subsequently, makes
its last chords sound like a botched
version of that song's melody. I could easily see somebody preferring the
ragged, unglossed-over production of The Bats as artistically superior to
McCartney's «stiffly polished» arrangement, but in terms of general melodicity
and catchiness, Paul wins over this particular phrasing, hands down).
Still, especially in the context of its times, The Law Of Things as a whole is quite a
thumbs up
experience. The title ʽYawn Vibesʼ may be appropriately self-ironic, but at
least these are some happy, tasteful yawn vibes we are getting provided with.
Check "The Law Of Things" (MP3) on Amazon
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