If you ever felt that the journalists hyping The Vines to the point of asphyxiation must have been privy to something you weren't, there's a good reason for that. They were.
Long before Craig and co played the UK, an eight-track demo was passed to hacks to generate enthusiasm. Many of the songs featured went on to form the better half of the foursome's debut, but two tracks were held back. "Winning Days" and "Rainfall" were astonishing, "Sally Cinnamon"-era Stone Roses-style classics. We were mesmerised. Infatuated even. Because if there1s one thing your indie fanatic wants most, it's another Stone Roses. Please God. Just one more before we die.
A terrible thing happened to The Vines between that demo and this album. They became famous. The things that made the band so special - the naivete of the quieter songs, the subtleties Craig produced when he wasn't playacting - were ignored in favour of the pantomime of Nicholls The Madman and the grunge-lite no brainers that went with it. After all, who needs tunes so magical they could make The Byrds weep when your kiddy punk tossoff is soundtracking the new Charlies Angels trailer? It all made perfect (business) sense.
Fame infects this album, poisons it. It's depressingly self-aware, never making a move unless it matches the Vines public image. Where once Craig was an endearing space cadet, now he's playing the gallery. You can almost hear him enjoying the sound of his own voice, his voice so over produced it's irritating. Worse still, he's singing about himself too - "I'm beginning to speak like I'm f**king mad", he witters on "Autumn Shade II" - as if referring to this crazy caricature somehow makes it all alright. In fact, it just highlights the pointlessness of the exercise, makes us realise exactly what we're really missing.
Musically, it's a mess. The single "Ride" is likeable enough, the chorus clearly designed for a snowboarding scene in an upcoming teen movie, but after that it goes very wrong. "Animal Machine" is a Nirvana tribute by numbers. "TV Pro" is too faux cosmic for its own good. "Autumn Shade II" bleats on with such utter mimsy you want to give Craig a good slap, while "Evil Town" is Muse without a sense of humour. Which is missing the point of Muse by several thousand miles.
And then it's here, the title track. Imagine if "Made Of Stone" had been remixed by the guys responsible for "November Rain". Smooth out the character, bland out the emotion, ruin the song basically. "Rainfall" doesn't come off so badly, but the magic's gone, the charm of the demo polished to the point where all That's left is a dull gleam rather than a wide eyed sparkle.
It's not all bad. "She's Got Something To Say To Me" is an infectious, Beatlesy tune that skips innocently along, its eye not on any demographic. A whole album of this would be just lovely, in much the same way that it's always nice to turn to those old Lemonheads albums. And "Amnesia" is soft and sweet, woozy psychedelia that you just want to luxuriate in. But it's all too little, too late. The spell's been broken, the reality that The Vines are just another half-decent indie group sorely apparent.
As the man himself says, the winning days are gone.
