The Dears - Degeneration Street

In this day and age, with the very concept of ‘albums’ raging against the dying light, it’s amazing that any band gets to LP number five. There’s only music so that there’s new ringtones? It seems this is the modern way. So while, say, R.E.M. didn’t really hit their stride until album number seven (1991’s ‘Out Of Time’), today’s melody makers are lucky to get seven months. In that context, it’s remarkable that Montreal’s The Dears have made it this far; even more so when you consider how close they came to splitting up after 2006’s ‘Gang Of Losers’ and the subsequent fallout and recriminations.

It certainly seems like they want to embrace their reprieve; this is a big, brash album, full of bold ideas and tunes that hit you square in the face. But much like the divorcee unable to say “No” at the singles club, this lack of restraint is also its downfall. The Dears were never that original to begin with, but part of their charm lay in Murray A. Lightburn’s ability to mix various strands of indie rock in a pleasant, appealing way – there was never any “Dears” sound, just a blend of the best of college radio. And that was all well and dandy, for a while. Here though, he borrows so openly and obviously it’s a wonder he doesn’t have his lawyer on speed dial. ‘Yesteryear’ could be (and probably is) a Razorlight B-side, while ‘5 Chords’ manages the impressive feat of referencing Arcade Fire and ‘Friday, I’m In Love’ by The Cure in the space of three minutes. The opening of ‘Thrones’ is uncannily similar to ‘One Day Like This’ by Elbow, with yet more post-Britpop stylings raising their head on the title track.

Lightburn must also be an admirer of Radiohead, as their influence looms larger than most. It’s there in the skittering drums and bass line of ‘Unsung’, in the falsetto singing and guitar solos of ‘Omega Dog’, and the melancholic yet epic crescendo of ‘Galactic Tides’ recalls ‘Exit Music (For A Film)’ in the way it builds the tension into a wall of noise. Even when not aping his heroes, the bombastic style lends the album an emphatic, overwrought quality, like they are trying too hard to succeed. The heavy chugging guitars and fuzzy rock of ‘Blood’ and ‘Stick w/ Me Kid’ were clearly written with arena encores in mind, with ‘Lamentation’ providing the lighters in the air moment. This even extends to the faux meaningful lyrics scattered throughout. Musings such as “This was the child of the millennium”, “Ever since I was a baby I’ve been like this”, “We believe what the prophecy says / Billions of souls on the edge” and, my personal favourite, ‘Saw it disappear into the dark / All the hope we put together falls apart / In a millisecond point zero one’ are the sort of nonsensical drivel a Mr C. Martin is now pilloried for on a regular basis.

Whether it’s the sense of relief at surviving, or the euphoria of getting another shot, you’re left with the feeling that they’ve tried anything and everything to find a formula that works, something that they can call their own. If you had very little knowledge of alternative indie from 1990 - 2005, I dare say you would love this album. It’s not really that bad, per se, just that after so many years of practice you’d expect them to be more focused and discerning. Emotion and logic are rarely happy bedfellows, and some restraint and studio smarts would go a long way to giving them their own voice and a better chance of success next time round.