The Radio Dept - Passive Aggressive: Singles 2002 - 2010

A jealously guarded secret for a decade now, Sweden’s The Radio Dept are the kind of band you can cherish, that feel like your own. There’s an intimacy to Johan Duncanson’s whisper and the subtle melodies bear the brittle air of something that’s going to get damaged if you let anyone else handle them. But it’s time to spread the word at least, because this two-disc singles and EPs retrospective is the ideal introduction for any unconverted souls.

Arranged chronologically, it’s clear that The Radio Dept’s knobs and dials have remained pretty much the same over eight years of singles; it’s just the finish that has changed. Early efforts ‘Why Won’t You Talk About It?’ and ‘Ewan’ betray a fierce Jesus And Mary Chain influence, sweet tunes submerged under fuzzy, rough-and-tumble guitar and crisp – if tinny – drum machine beats, a real live drummer having been jettisoned in the band’s toddler phase. Fast-forward to the end of the collection and the melodic touch is still there but songs like ‘The New Improved Hypocrisy’ depend on authoritative synths and bassy structure. It’s a progression easily demarcated by their three albums - ‘Lesser Matters’ (2003), ‘Pet Grief’ (2006) and ‘Clinging To A Scheme’ (2010) – but all of a piece here, the ride is smooth and intriguing without recourse to dates.

Some signifiers keep popping up. The Boo Radleys’ scratchy grandeur is all over ‘Pulling Our Weight’, and ‘Where Damage Is Already Done’ rings with ‘Wishing I Was Skinny’ guitar. Elsewhere, the light dream-pop bop of Saint Etienne is a frequent guest, scattering ‘This Past Week’ and ‘Heaven’s On Fire’ with summery, flyweight dance flourishes, while the equally smart pop of the Pet Shop Boys is echoed on ‘Bachelor Kisses’. No, this isn’t particularly hard-edged stuff, not after the early feedback squalls, although there’s something of Joy Division’s glum anthemics on ‘The Worst Taste In Music’.

By the time we get to the representatives from last year’s album, jagged scars are all but gone, to be replaced by soft breakbeats and bouncing basslines. Solid throughout though is Duncanson’s detached, muffled vocal and, above all, the hegemony of the hook. It’s the same story on the second disc, which plots a parallel journey albeit with more typical B-side, soundtracky pieces like ‘Taget’ and ‘Slottet’. ‘What You Sell’ and ‘On Your Side’ are fantastically Prefab Sprout, with big 80s piano and unexpected jazzy chords, and that’s a telling comparison - The Radio Dept share Paddy McAloon’s attachment to romantic, sophisticated melody, unafraid of sounding twee yet quirky enough to resist the accusation. It’s an arch sort of pop music but loveable all the same, and this bumper pack will find space in countless hearts.