When Garbage made their eponymous debut here in 1995, they appeared as an antidote to the Spice Girls’ vacuous, faux-feminist pop on one hand and, on the other, the comic Blur versus Oasis face-off.
As if from nowhere (Madison, Wisconsin and Edinburgh, in fact), came one famous producer (drummer Butch Vig) and his two mates, plus the attitudinal singer from an (unremarkable and defunct) Scottish pop band (Shirley Manson). They held the glowering, sexy and streamlined, slightly malevolent pop sounds of “Vow”, “Queer” and the rest up to our curious ears and caused the disillusioned among us to fall in love again.
In the decade since, Garbage have faced the challenge of following up their stonking debut (“Version 2.O” managed that creditably), dealt with the “difficult third album” (“Beautiful Garbage” – a pass), fought health problems (Vig’s tour-scuppering hepatitis, Manson’s vocal chord surgery) and, most crucially, weathered a collective, mid-life crisis that meant they weren’t sure they wanted to carry on at all.
“Bleed Like Me” doesn’t sound like a band at the crossroads – but neither does it sound like one whose creative compass is directing them to brave new lands. They’ve returned to the clamorous, powerchord-packed rock of their debut, with the inevitable result that it sounds fixed firmly by the formaldehyde of fashion in mid-90s post-grunge. More than anything, it triggers a rush of memories – of The Jesus And Mary Chain’s later, poppier moments, of Pixies, Smashing Pumpkins and The Breeders. Perhaps not the smartest idea for a band of 40-somethings trying to re-establish themselves in 2005.
Meaty opener “Bad Boyfriend” recalls The Godfathers and The Pretenders, all clanging, foot-to-the-floor guitar and moody, Hynde-like vocals. “Why Do You Love Me”, though, is lifted straight from the Foo Fighters’ book of metal-tipped power pop – no great surprise, given that Dave Grohl play drums on “Bad Boyfriend”. “Metal Heart” is flecked with glitchy texturing and synthesised strings, but the guitar crunch that marks this as a self-consciously “rock” record soon reasserts itself. “It’s All Over But The Crying” is the traditional, three-quarter-mark ballad, but then comes “Boys Wanna Fight”, stirring unwelcome thoughts of Republica. A superior Republica, maybe, but…
No one can deny Garbage’s way with the muscly, alt. rock lick or the bubblegum pop hook, nor the intelligence behind them, but “Bleed Like Me” strikes a depressingly dated note. If Garbage feel their best is behind them, they’re in worse trouble than they imagine.
