Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 11/08/08
Label: Surrender All

Exactly a decade ago, "Psyence Fiction", the debut album from Mo' Wax label boss James Lavelle and his then musical partner DJ Shadow, stood as one of the most hyped and anticipated records of the day. Ten years on, the same can't be said for "End Titles…Stories For Film". While the likes of Thom Yorke, Richard Ashcroft and Ian Brown, whose vocal presence made "Psyence Fiction" the event it was, have either retained their standing or been elevated to gods, UNKLE's status dwindled to that of niche players whose records existed primarily for the entertainment of their makers.

So, in every sense, "End Titles…" really is just another UNKLE album. Like its three predecessors, it's so epic in scope and ambition that dysfunctional, incoherent rambling is the only possible outcome. Spanning ambient electronica, raging rock, classical swathes, folk melancholy, atmospheric incidental music, bombastic beats and indie introspection, all supposedly united by a shared cinematic essence, this is another extended doodle from a man who'd probably be a genius if only he could focus long enough.

Yet while "End Titles…"'s most obvious gift is another chance to rake over the lack of method in Lavelle's sonic madness, for once what this UNKLE album lacks in logic, vision and finished ideas, it makes up for with solid songs and genuine intrigue. Admittedly there's more of the latter than the former, but still, it's enough to stay on the interesting side of shapeless, lo-fi mood music.

Hope and instant gratification come via a trio of darkly seductive melodies at the album's heart. Queens Of The Stone Age's Josh Homme leads the way with the brooding, orchestral metal of "Chemical". Homme's Queens cohort, producer Chris Goss, adds stoner rock chill to the basement rumble of "Nocturnal", while the dank trip-hop of Gavin Clark's "Against The Grain" sounds like Radiohead fronted by Marc Almond - a surprisingly alluring combination. As well as being fine, and for once fully formed, tracks in their own right, these three are the parts which make sense of the whole. Just as the album descends into sprawling vagueness, they arrive to tie the rock, electronic, folk and classic strands together.

With interest re-engaged and spurred by a hint of logic, the swirling shambles of desolate instrumentals and bruised indie mumbling starts to open up to something approaching a compelling soundtrack, if not to a film of any identifiable genre, then an alcoholic night with the curtains closed. It's not vintage and it doesn't finally deliver what the hype of "Psyence Fiction" promised, but given enough time it's an album you could learn to love.

    by Dan Gennoe