Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 21/08/06
Label: Transgressive

How much is the fish? How much is the chips? How much is the fish? Does the fish have chips? Older readers will no doubt have felt their blood run icy cold as they read those lines, lyrics from a long-forgotten garden shed indie funk band called Stump. Mike Lynch, Stump's bulging-eyed singer, liked nothing better than spitting out staccato, falsetto vocals that took a manic pride in the needlessly absurd. He was, history tells us, indie's most irritating man.

The Young Knives, a trio from Oxford, are clearly too young to remember Stump. Hence they repeat their mistakes. At the heart of this album lies a group with the infectious energy of Supergrass and the melodic charm of The Kaiser Chiefs - and you can only suppose that the critical acclaim afforded The Young Knives must be based on the hope that they can make good on this promise. But for every post-Britpop turn of brilliance, there's ten moments of quirky, smug, nonsense, ten bursts of pure Stump-like irritancy.

First things first - they have a drummer called The House Of Lords. Wacky guy, wacky name, presumably. Unfortunately, they too often sound like they have a drummer called The House Of Lords. The perfectly decent opener, "Part Timer", interrupts a brash Supergrass-meets-Futureheads thrash with fifteen seconds of the guys aimlessly strumming a guitar and discussing how best to write the song (ooo-eee, how post-modern of them!).

"The Decision", their most Stump-like song musically, sees singer Henry Dartnall gibber out gobbledegook lyrics in a horrifically zany yelp, made all the more irritating by a truly lovely middle eight that really should have been saved for a different song. On "In The Pink", Dartnall sounds like Feargal Sharkey running over hot coals (and not in a good way). Again, there are some sweet, soft harmonies on here, but the voice is so annoying that any emotional connection is long gone.

As the album progresses, they calm down a little, thank Christ. "Here Comes The Rumour Mill" sees Dartnall bring the squeal down a couple of crucial notches, while the band turn in a storming Kaisers-style chorus. "Hollow Line" drops the clever-clever, admire-me schtick for a tender song straight from the Graham Coxon songbook. And "Loughborough Suicide" proves they can fuse new wave Britpop with intelligence and ambition, even if it does sound a little like later period These Animal Men.

In many ways, The Young Knives are the Russell Brand of nu-Britpop. Sometimes they're witty and inspired, running off with a manic stream of consciousness to fresh, new territory. And at other times, they're juvenile and annoying, about a tenth as talented as they think they are and suffused with smarmy ego where there really should be some charisma. Hopefully both will catch sight of themselves and realise that there's quite some way to go yet.

    by Ian Watson