Magnetic Morning - A.M.

There is a dour, languid pace to ‘A.M.’ that might cause listeners to fall asleep, as opposed to waking up and starting their day, as Magnetic Morning might have hoped, judging by the name of their band and album. With the talents involved in this project (Swervedriver’s Adam Franklin and Interpol’s Sam Fogarino are the chief players, as well as The Album Leaf’s Jimmy LaValle), you would hope there would be more sonic eruptions and clamorous tracks, but unfortunately that is not the case, as the rather bland album drags on austerely with hardly a memorable song or sound on the record.

‘Spring Unseen’ starts flat and stays there, and blends innocuously into ‘At A Crossroads, Passive’ that more than lives up to its title by remaining docile and emotionless. There is a sterile quality that permeates this entire record, and while the production (handled by Andy LeMaster and former Sugar bassist David Barbe) is pristine and crisp, the songs fail to resonate because of the perfunctory nature of the music itself. There is a noticeable distance between the listener and the heart of these songs, and that gap isn’t bridged once during the course of ‘A.M.’ There is a bit of promise in the relaxed arrangements of ‘Indian Summer’, but that is ruined by the repetitive phrasing of the chorus. ‘Come Back’ suffers from the same fate, with a monotonous melody that drags on sleepily while the title of the song is repeated ad nauseam. You just keep waiting for the songs to catch fire, but there really is nothing more here other than smoke and mirrors.

‘No Direction’ at least has a bit of a pulse and a back beat, but Franklin’s vocals are rather puerile and pointless, and the song fails to build on the propulsive drumming of Fogarino. ‘Motorway’ represents the album’s high point, which is no surprise given that finally you get the sense that the boys are letting loose with the My Bloody Valentine chorus and ethereal plunking of the keyboards. If the rest of the album was imbued with this type of spirit and energy it would be a compelling listen. Alas, the record again downshifts, with the plodding ‘The Wrong Turning’ drifting along aimlessly, filled with vacant cliches and soured sentiment. They even manage to suck the doo-wop passion and vitality out of the Shangri-Las ‘Out In The Streets’, which is a rather directionless cover. ‘And I Wonder’ sounds like a Verve cast off, without even the vocals of Richard Ashcroft to lift the song out of the depths of tedium.

Unfortunately, there is little life to cling to on Magnetic Morning’s debut, which is a rather inanimate record that starts off subdued and muted and stays there, barely mustering a pulse through the album’s 10 tracks. That’s quite a shame, as the pedigree’s of the cast of players are pretty impressive, but good music is made up of more than just names and history, there needs to be heart there as well. And ‘A.M.’ unfortunately doesn’t have an identifiable essence or a spirit within its songs to make it all that memorable.