Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 02/07/07
Label: WEA

According to frontman Tim Wheeler, this is going to be Ash's final album. Not that the Northern Irish trio are splitting up. Far from it. "Twilight Of The Innocents" is to mark their creative rebirth - the last time that they make an artistic statement via the medium of CD. In the future the band will only record singles, dispatching them to the hungry masses via the medium of iTunes whenever and wherever they should see fit. So far, so 21st Century. However, if you're thinking that such a forward-thinking business plan would be reflected in the band's music then think again, because this is a pretty bog-standard Ash collection, nothing more, nothing less.

Actually, to all extents and purposes, Ash were never really an albums band in the first place - gatecrashing Nirvana's slipstream with "Girl From Mars" and traversing the sea changes of Britpop with unassailable anthems like "Oh Yeah" and "Shining Light", they are best sampled on "Intergalactic Sonic Sevens", a greatest hits with a surprisingly high strike rate. Individually, the band are hobbled by any number of Achilles' Heels (Wheeler's voice is weedy and reedy, drummer Rick McMurray is no Dave Grohl, bassist Mark Hamilton is perfunctory at best). But together Ash are capable of stitching together a fine line in melodic, slightly alternative rock.

Despite the departure of Charlotte Hatherley, it is a knack they show no signs of losing, particularly on the singles "I Started A Fire" and "Polaris". Both are inoffensive drivetime fare - slightly to the left of Razorlight, to the right of the Foo Fighters - but manage to bum rush the pleasuredome courtesy of a brace of killer choruses. "You Can't Have It All" and "Shadows" are similarly fine and Wheeler lives out some guitar hero fantasies with a few bursts of six-string attack. The vibe, however, is mostly constrained, mature and mapped-out. "Polaris", notably, is underpinned by some pleasant Keane-style keyboards.

Unfortunately, this lack of derring-do mires the remainder of the album. When Wheeler sings about "fire and brimstone" on "Blacklisted" or "dancing with the trustifarian daughters" on "Palace Of Excess", it's like he's auditioning to be Avril Lavigne's songwriter-in-chief. The sense of arrested development eventually overcomes all, and by the time the Arcade Fire-ish title track comes around you imagine most casual listeners will surely have switched off. It's so-so, middling and whatever other middle-of-the-road adjectives you can think of. Perhaps the change will do them good, but after a decade of life as a promising young rock band you feel future for the grown-up Ash will be a case of experiment or die.

    by Adam Webb