If you were in the mood, you could dismiss The Cribs in a moment. Several times on this fashionably terse debut - twelve tracks in thirty-five minutes, most songs well under three minutes - The Cribs might as well be called The Strikes, Wakefield's Tribute To The Special Magic Of Julian C And The Boys. Everything from the guitar sound and melody lines to the vocal delivery and offhand lyrical matter has been, well, cribbed from you know who.
Take "The Lights Went Out". That reedy guitar sound is replicated perfectly, the melody is suitably linear, the lyrics even mention some "New York boys" for good measure. It's all very bizarre. You have to suppose that The Cribs either (a) love The Strokes so much that they can't help writing songs exactly like them or (b) are hoping to cash in on a fleeting trend and reckon being as blatant as possible is the way to go.
The irony, of course, is that these are decent songs. There are great touches of indie jangle in the likes of "Things You Should Be Knowing" and "Baby Don't Sweat", and The Cribs have an infectious way with a chorus. If this album had been released five years ago, it would have been hailed as a mini classic. But The Cribs wouldn't have been able to write it five years ago. They were probably too busy with big shorts and backwards baseball caps.
The only song that strays from all too familiar blueprint is "You Were Always The One" and even that doesn't stray that far. The verse is pure Strokes On Autopilot, but the chorus makes the grand leap of ripping off another band entirely, in this case Ash. The result is actually quite endearing: the sweetness of Tim Wheeler's approach leavening Julian Casablancas' studied drawl. But it's all still utterly second hand, a pointless exercise that really should have remained in a pub backroom.
And, anyway Cribs, haven't you heard? The Strokes are all over, fellas. You should have chucked together a Josef K rip off album instead.
