Bombastic Battle Hymn of the Rock Public
by CerebralPaulC
A victory procession flanked by throngs of angry youth teeming with sexual trajectories. And as the motorcade nears, the screeching fan belt of the lead car pierces the din. Tireless rims scar the road, just as roads scar the earth. Tear gas burns young eyes and incessant movement threatens chaos. Trampling hoards rush the potentate just to lick his boots. This is triumph. This is supremacy. And above the ruckus and revelry, the bombastic battle hymn of the rock public: Per Ardua
McIntyre’s muse hasn’t always been a war-torn world plagued by tyrants and their toadies. Once a wistful boy, content to stroll up-down leafy lanes, sniffing dainty roses, McIntyre has forsaken sanctuary and thrust us into the passenger seat of his rock-fueled funny car, plowing through labyrinthine English gardens, speeding toward a long stretch of open road. In other words, Adam got his nuts out. Big, ain’t they? And hairy.
Let’s start with the production. Light years ahead of previous work. “Together or Alone” excellently blends intimate living room guitars with boomy drums, retro-modern keys and anthemic vocals. Winding melodies take a backseat to a punchier, more muscular sound. Less pomp, more power. But if Adam lets slide a touch of sonic scrappiness, the playing itself never wants for precision.
"America" showcases McIntyre's progress as a writer/arranger and may be his best song to date. A spiraling guitar run adds a dose of urgency and edge and pushes you right into the chorus, a deft use of tension and release. And let’s not forget the lyrics: “Harmonies that sound just like the sky is falling in your mind”. This is a far cry from the jilted lover themes of yore. Well done, sir. Well done indeed.
An excellently executed cover of Devo’s “Girl U Want” brings to light an forgotten fav while reminding us his guitar chops and versatility are as healthy as ever.
McIntyre’s infatuation with quirky Brit pop gods, like Ray Davies and Jeff Lynne manifests itself in “Liquid Girlfriend” but if Adam sometimes writes like David Watts is peering over his hedgerow with a cricket bat, "Proscription Day" sounds like the Kinks were sent for cigs while Adam had his way with the 8-track recorder. It’s an apt closer replete with melodic, singable riffs and addled drums.
I’d give this album 5 stars but I don’t want to make Adam complacent. Let’s give him something to work towards. ‘Sides, he’s got enough to be cocky about. Buy it!
