Originally posted on 4/4/10
Dirt - Kids in Glass Houses - Album Review
This can be a very annoying task on occasion. Normally i'm full of things to say about whatever it is i'm reviewing, be it reluctant praise or unbridled contempt, but this week i'm so stuck I don't even have a title. I have a lot to say about Dirt, but i'm still undecided on whether I like it or not.
Kids in Glass Houses' first album was annoying for me in a lot of ways. Not least that I spent �14 on it and hated it on first listen, but there was more than that once i'd heard it a few times and got to see it fully. While it was by no means perfect or as accomplished as it was capable of being, there were decent songs, even it most of the better ones were quite samey or had awful lyrics (see Easy Tiger, where the chorus is lucky to contain words). Moving on to their second album, most bands in this situation improve, create more fully-fledged songs and gain a lot of credility in doing so (see Max�mo Park). Kids in Glass Houses appear to have bypassed this however, and simply ripped off anything vaguely emo in the past 3 years. When I put the CD in for the first time, my immediate thought was "i've heard this album this year" as opener Artbreaker I (they cleverly put Artbreaker II at the end) uses the same intro as The Consequence by You Me At Six. This rather sets the tone for the rest of the album, with some awful screaming and some crap lyrics "Fumble with the stranger in your bed/Fuck yourself into the record books instead" (not exact but it could work), and couple this with two horrendously awful duets featuring the burd with the bean-do out The Saturdays and New Found Glory, a band who I have to hate on principle, and you're getting towards an album that's so bad it makes you ill.
On those two duets, Undercover Lover is so vomit-inducing it should be outlawed under public decency laws, and Maybe Tomorrow is a classic example of what to do when you realise a record is failing; throw in some backing vocals that chant over a chorus to add some depth. Unfortunately, they only serve to show how shallow the song and the rest of the album is. Everything on it seems to be done to a paint by numbers kind of scheme, with no real imagination in any of it. It's competant certainly, but it's certainly not remarkable. Aled Phillips' (what a rock star name) voice is also very often completely unable to sing the songs here, see The Morning Afterlife which is that wee slow number that bands like this put on to show they have the depth to sing a tender ballad, only for it to blow up in their face. It combines strings with screaming for christ's sake. There's no progression here from the last album, there's nothing original or vaguely unique that you could listen to and think 'this band are going places.'
Credit where it's due, there are stand-outs. When it's not dying in a sea of fringes and whining, moments like Matters at All, Hunt the Haunted and The Best is Yet to Come sprout up. These are the things that give you some vague hope that KIGC will avoid becoming one of about 20 bands going around that you hate. Because ultimately, if you'd just heard this album for the first time, you would assume that they're one of those awful bands like Madina Lake or We Are the Ocean who should just be rounded up and shot. As mentioned though, there are moments that make them worthy of your time, even though you'll wish you weren't listening at all. For this band to have any hope they'll have to hope their prophecy comes true, and that the best really is yet to come.
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