If, musically, 2002 is to be remembered for anything, it's bound to be the continuation of the garage rock invasion. Now that The Strokes are bonefide megastars, The Hives are on the verge of becoming multimillionaires, getting stripped down and back to basics is de rigueur. Every Tom, Dick and Pelle wants a piece of the action.
That is unless you're The Music - four barely legal young lads from Leeds with an affection for sprawling, psychedelic wig-outs and a self-proclaimed quest to bring 'the groove' back to rock. This may sound a little scary, but lest we forget that the pre-'Urban Hymns' Verve were largely ridiculed for similar reasons until, three albums in, everyone decided they liked them all along.
In fact, comparisons with the aforementioned Wigan giants are all too easy to make, alongside Led Zeppelin and 'Second Coming' era Stone Roses. Lazy journalism? Maybe, but it's impossible to listen to this album without these influences poring out of the speakers from rock's graveyard and making it all rather predictable.
Opener 'The Dance' meanders gradually into life, evolving into an immense clattering, techno-esque groove. On the way there's a lengthy guitar solo and Robert Harvey's wailing voice, that sounds like his nether regions have been smeared with honey and exposed to a swarm of angry bees. The controls have been firmly set to epic, each band member seems to be attempting to drown out the next and the following nine tracks pretty much follow suit.
Given time to develop and refine their craft, like their Wigan forefathers, The Music could have a great deal to offer, but for now at least this is the sound of a band trying to do too much at once and sinking under the weight of their heroes. With proof of late that less is often more, this is merely some music not THE music.
