REVIEW ROUND-UP: Chubby And The Gang, Mouth Culture, envy, ARXX

Chubby And The Gang

And Then There Was…

The immediate best thing about And Then There Was… is the recognition of the need for change. Up to now, Chubby And The Gang’s placement as a bellwether of hardcore riches to come could be extremely hard to buy, as a cursory update on Sham 69-esque street-bruising wasn’t as freshly riotous as its backers seemed convinced it was. Therefore, an overhaul of this magnitude proves rather arresting from the get-go. ‘The Gang’ now seems to have been retconned as a rotating cast of guest players, with Charlie Manning as the consistent driving force. Further to that, the sound has been almost entirely recreated, to where punk is now just a piece of a multidimensional ‘70s rock experience.

‘Experience’ is probably the most appropriate term for something like this, too. The album is a bit of a beast, both in its scope and its presentation that can be rather unrelenting, with neither being entirely mutually exclusive. 16 tracks make up And Then There Was…, almost all of which quake beneath a rocksliding tone and Manning’s hoary bellow that sometimes verges on incomprehension. It can be a real endurance test, though not a bad one. Some of Chubby And The Gang’s far-and-away best moments are here, typically when considerably more melody is allowed to brook and surface. There’s a lot of grace offered to excess organ on The Bonnie Banks and Springsteen-esque twinkles on Since You Said Goodbye, and especially the classic-rock thunderclap of Some To Make You Better, Some To Make You Sick. It’s one of a handful of moments where you can tell they’re just dying to break out the Thin Lizzy guitar wail.

The feel of a more centralised creative nucleus is imperative across And Then There Was…, down to the minutiae of how it’s a mite too long for its own good in order to pad everything it brings in. There’s never the feel of delegation; this is an unsullied representation of exactly what Mannng intended, and regardless of some overstuffing, you can’t really fault that. No matter how brief it might be, the nexus window between huge, throttling power and classic boots-on-the-ground craftsmanship is always in the firing line. Therefore, there are cuts like There’s A Devil In The Jukebox where some brushstrokes of Proud Mary are left visible, or sub-two-minuters Anticop and Trepanning that zero back in on rowdy, roughneck punk in its purest form. Most impressive of all, Cocaine Sunday sticks the landing as a closing piano-ballad with Manning in a rough-hewn, Shane McGowan-esque mould of genuine tenderness.

Compared to previous efforts, And Then There Was… ends up as a far more filling listen. Refined yet sprawling, creatively focused and succinct yet gifted with unbridled adventurousness, it’s a portrayal of Chubby And The Gang with all the—for lack of a better term—fat left on. You could trim some of it off, but that’d almost defeat the object, wouldn’t it? As the name alludes, And Then There Was… is Manning’s serious stride forth on his own terms, uninhibited and unrestrained. To have such a singular force as that pan out with as many highlights as this almost makes complaints seem immaterial.

For fans of: The Chisel, Sham 69, Hot Water Music

‘And Then There Was…’ by Chubby And The Gang is released on 4th October on Flatspot Records.

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Mouth Culture

Whatever The Weather

Chances are you’ll probably have noticed how ardent the push behind Mouth Culture has gotten this year. They’re a go-to support band now and a regular on the lower end of the festival circuit, features which aren’t nailed-on success signifiers on their own—pretty much every new, buzzy act will be picked up by the same welcome wagon—but definitely seem poised to be here. The theory could be how Mouth Culture almost serve as a revival of Britrock’s old ways, as approachable everymen whose alt-rock instincts trend towards big radio-readiness, as opposed to a more transgressive or incisive frame. They’re closer on the axis to, say, You Me At Six or prime Lower Than Atlantis than the current forerunners and torchbearers, which is likely why a lot of that older guard have taken note. They opened for The Blackout on some of their reunion shows; they’ll be doing the same with You Me At Six on some of their farewell dates next year; when more Britrockers from the last decade start feeling the pinch and make moves, Mouth Culture will likely have their backs, too.

Now, some might read into that with a bit of alarm, like how years of cultivating a British alternative scene defined by unique vision and a true…well, alternative can still be gamed by the old ways that had supposedly been replaced. But although Mouth Culture are far from the most individual prospect out there, they’re still far enough removed from the equivalent of white paint on a white wall. Notice the use of ‘prime Lower Than Atlantis’ earlier, as a benchmark for alt-rock of this stripe that has more soul and spirit to it. You get that most on Dead In Love and Little Wednesday, erected from the raw materials of your usual Radio 1 rock fare circa 2014, but more grounded and much more human. Mouth Culture are yet to have their rockier exterior eroded by bright arena lights; there’s still an admirable amount of crunch to be found. No Shame is a great example of that specifically, with a jumpy, circular riff that almost acts as nu-metal transposed into Britrock that’s topped appropriately topped off by percussion clicks and turntable scratches.

Admittedly, all of that still won’t be enough to slake some of the side-eyes, but just from execution, you can tell that Mouth Culture are trying. In a rougher voice from Jack Voss and an instrumental fleshing-out taken from the grunge and other ‘90s subsidiaries with an undiminished runway, there’s at least more to feel out for. It’s also just a good sign when there’s not a dud among the five tracks here, and each of them being on a different alt-rock stratum is a good way to display range that sometimes goes overlooked. You can almost tell that this is Mouth Culture’s first release post-wave of attention, given the efforts to adventure without testing the boundaries that proved winning in the first place. A few more upbeat sensibilities also help, though remaining cognisant of what could be deemed ‘too much’. In that regard, Little Wednesday is the ideal centrepiece to have, bold and reassuring and still a decently meaty rock track to boot.

In general, it’s hard to discredit a lot of the appeal that Mouth Culture are bringing to the table, regardless of personal preference. They’re about as reliable to the ideals of crossover alt-rock as you’ll get these days—steadfastly anthemic with a hand on how to sweep even further (check out Everyday for that), while mostly keeping pace with an ethos of humble sticktoitiveness. If they keep that up, they won’t go far wrong, just like they’ve done lately. Amid the wide, diverse spectrum of Britrock in all directions, Mouth Culture just might be the most bankable name around, even with an catalogue that doesn’t crack an hour in its entirety. Such an assertion will likely be met with scoffs and cynicism, but the results speak for themselves ultimately. Make of it what you will, but few others are taking these kinds of strides in this specific direction, let alone with as much success.

For fans of: Lower Than Atlantis, Basement, You Me At Six

‘Whatever The Weather’ by Mouth Culture is released on 4th October on InVogue Records.

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envy

Eunoia

Isn’t it cool how cult screamo bands who’ve been around for decades can just casually drop a new album and have it be their best? That is, of course, the case with envy, for whom 2020’s The Fallen Crimson cleanly vaulted over the usual expectations for an act on their seventh album. Maybe the return of original vocalist Tetsuya Fukagawa was just that much of a galvaniser; maybe three decades of unfettered post-rock / post-hardcore alchemy simply came to the cleanest of heads. Either way, Eunoia is a follow-up ready to focus as much of that intent and grandeur as possible. In no uncertain terms, it might be the most plainly tuneful and accessible that envy have ever been.

To even call this a ‘screamo’ album a lot of the time might be an overstep. Only three of the eight songs actually feature screaming, while instrumental choices designed to evoke envy’s usually epic scope are tailored to closer represent elegant J-balladry. The one-two of The Night And The Void and Beyond The Raindrops carry the skyscraper-rooftop-standing, air-clutching enormity better linked to countrymen X Japan, and January’s Dusk parlays and inflates that into its cinematic closing salvo. Even at their post-rockiest, there’s a level of melodic dedication in patches of Eunoia that’s borderline unheard of for envy. Perhaps it’ll jar on anyone for whom oversized power-ballads aren’t their thing (though those aren’t the sort of people you should be associating with anyway), but honestly, the appeal is there. envy seem surprisingly game to go the whole hog, particularly when Fukagawa’s breathy spoken-word and the overall emotive shape of the Japanese language is such a massive aid.

But even so, don’t panic—traces of the ‘normal’ envy remain in place, albeit a little sidelined in their magnetism by the oxygen-sucking potential of their new turn. Of course, for some, that’ll be the complete other way around, and the quicker, sweltering pacing of Whiteout and the abrasive grind at the root of Lingering Light will be far more attractive propositions. That really is a testament to envy’s adaptability, though. On Eunoia, there’s a sonic gulf that’s perhaps wider than ever, and yet on neither side do envy fail to captivate. The depth of experience is such an obvious factor, where every creative beat can be extrapolated or condensed as seen fit. At no point is there anything even approaching growing pains among something new; the feet-first gambit always appears to pay off. And with typically high-end production accentuating everything as and when needed, envy’s new moves feel the furthest thing from uncertain.

If anything, it’s kind of the ideal position for a long-running band to be in. There’s no point in being left to stagnate, even if you’re the most proficient, perfect act in the world at what you do; there’s at least more honour in trying something. That’s not a problem that envy are all that heavily saddled with, but Eunoia seems to entirely oust the possibility of a fall-off after such a huge effort last time. No, it’s not on the level of The Fallen Crimson, but the downward incline is far from as steep as it could be. Turns out there’s still plenty that can be mined from envy even at their most listenable, a feat made even more impressive by how long they’ve left it to get here.

For fans of: La Dispute, Loma Prieta, The Saddest Landscape

‘Eunoia’ by envy is released on 11th October on Pelagic Records.

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ARXX

Good Boy

Lately, ARXX have found their greatest bouts of visibility through support slots with MUNA and Fletcher, putting them in front of desired audiences of the gays and the pop girlies. It’s quite fitting for them, actually, as a duo for whom their own queerness has been imperative in their work, as has a poppier, more produced side of the indie scene. Good Boy really has them leaning on that; if their debut Ride Or Die last year laid the groundwork, both pop sound and indie ambition are almost matching pace now. It’s just a shame it doesn’t feel fuller or more impactful, like you’d imagine was the aim in the wake of the acts who’ve taken ARXX under their wings.

Opposed to tight, gleaming synthpop or aerated alt-pop, Good Boy finds ARXX attempting to replicate either through a whole host of differences being split. It’s already a selection of smaller tones to choose from—synths can be a bit squelchier; programmed beats can be agile but shrunken and tapped-out—further hemmed in by guitars that make Like Hell and Forgive And Forget feel almost wooden. When the spirit of the homegrown is put next to produced pop with the intent of connecting, it makes portions of Good Boy a lot thinner and more simplistic than they ought to be. Especially on Forgive And Forget, a song about sexual assault as a child and being threatened to have it outed by the narrator’s therapist, the whole package is so underpowered that it seems borderline inconsequential.

The frustrating thing about Good Boy is that, sometimes, ARXX can make their vision work, but there’s never a hard-and-fast rule to it. Sometimes it clicks; sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it’s in places you’d otherwise expect to stall out in a hurry, like the sweaty synth throb and Daft Punk guitar squawks of All Night that are still corralled by a DIY sense of non-scale. Perhaps it’s because ARXX sense of pop knack actually extends below the surface, and working within their means is the most efficient way to get it out there. You’ll find that things are markedly best when the material is more spacious and frugal by design, as on Easy and Baby Berlin. (Dublin can sometimes have its thunder stollen by its spasms of effect, but it fits there, too.) There’s also vocalist Hanni Pidduck and how their voice can pick up the odd Dua Lipa-esque timbre, another quality to throw on ARXX’s burgeoning heap of things you’d never anticipate from an album this pared-back.

At least, on average, Good Boy has more going on that you might expect. It can be a little rickety in its execution of them, but the small windows of opportunity do emerge for ARXX to clamber through. What comes to pass, then, is a small, uneven alt-pop album that’s so appreciably genuine in every decision it makes. The myriad shakes and stumbles won’t stop ARXX from picking themselves up and dusting themselves off, and it’s the best quality of Good Boy, overall. Pop domination doesn’t have to be beckoning from the doorstep for them to still be endearing.

For fans of: Cherym, The Aces, Dead Pony

‘Good Boy’ by ARXX is released on 4th October on Submarine Cat Records.

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Words by Luke Nuttall