Timing is everything in rock'n'roll. Athlete, then, are surely running backwards. A background in the frenetic metropolis of Detford, South London, rather than the frenetic metropolis of New York City - or America for that matter - has been of zero benefit to this emerging four-piece.
Moreover, waving a musical flag last seen fluttering at half-mast at the fag end of Britpop, whilst the cognoscenti slouch, pose and strut in the pursuit of rock of the purest and most primal form, and foolishly forgetting to bolt a 'The' to their name, finds Athlete chronically out of time. (The fact that the group are apparently God-fearing has barely been broached).
For these very reasons, 'Vehicles And Animals' will, and has, been marginalised, even sneered at by certain sections of the press machine, unsettled by certain musical rules of engagement: ie melody, clean production, chipper positivity and heads looking back across decades of sound rather then one specific moment in time.
They have a point: through much of the course of this 45-minute debut, Athlete fail to grasp edge, drama, even depth and soul, with any real nerve, as they plunder a myriad of seemingly incompatible influences. But there are a batch of mighty tunes here, and a sound that, while hardly de rigour, melds some of rock's freshest, brightest lights to their own street-wise, archetypal city swagger and 'Mockney' wit.
Taking the sun-cracked West Coast highways of Steely Dan, the harmonised honey of the Beach Boys, bursts of Pavement-esque thrash and the fizzing electro-pop polish of the Super Furry Animals and the Beta Band, Athlete really need not concern themselves with the rock 'scene'.
Which is pretty much how they first served notice of their talents 12 months ago, on the pop culture-trashing anthem 'Westside'. This track alone towers above much of the album, but also a good deal of Athlete's contemporaries. Elsewhere, there is plenty to mark them down as future contenders, notably the graceful emoting of 'Shake Those Windows' - 'Here' by Pavement, rewritten in-tune and with "beats and rhymes" essentially - and the splurging electro-guitar spillage of 'Dungeoness'.
Elsewhere, the singles amplify the band's way with a pop chorus - the glittering if two-lighters to the wind 'Beautiful' - and a desire to confront contemporary issues, in the shape of the diamond-encrusted, altruistic hunk of love of 'You Got The Style', which purports to be about last year's UK race riots.
Ultimately, the jaded disdain that has greeted Athlete may well give this chronically unfashionable group the empowerment and impetus to go onto the next level and well beyond this promising debut. If, of course, they're given the chance.
