Royal Blood's Debut Album, and Musings on "the UK Rock Scene"

Today, I woke up to the news that Royal Blood's self-titled debut album is the fastest-selling rock debut album in the past three years since Noel Gallagher's Highly Forgettable Bozos, if the UK chart people are to be believed. Let's put aside the sad fact of modern society that I, like many others, take my morning coffee with a dose of Facebook, and have a chat about this.

For about as long as I've been into music, and doubtless longer than that, there's been the tiresome debate of "is rock dead in the UK?" or "are guitar bands still interesting/relevant/sexy/etc?" To which, I'd always answer "no," and "far as I'm concerned, and who cares if you like them?"

Now, it is the unfortunate and, really, rather irritating case that by the UK rock scene, journalism really means the London music label scene, with maybe some Manchester or Brighton thrown in for a little diversity when the baying hordes of malcontent come knocking on the gilded gates of Universal brandishing burning guitar-pitchfork hybrids. And Royal Blood are one of these Brighton-based wildcards in the world of mainstream music. They're one bassist and one drummer, which  ticks some boxes my end, as I'm a bassist and I'm very partial to Death From Above 1979 and the two-bassists-one-drummer band Exit_International.

For my sins, I hadn't heard of Royal Blood until a few days back, when the record shop I work in got a shipment of their album in on LP. Then, I noticed the Marmite-like effect they were having on some goth acquaintances of mine, who all liked the cover art but were having problems with the music. 

So, I decided to acquaint myself with the umpteenth saviours of UK rock.

In fact, I was pleasantly surprised. They weren't the anaemic pile of deflated bollocks I was expecting them to be, given that the High BloodPressured Burbledewurbles were their chart success comparisons. Unlike Hugh Fernley-Whittingstall's Bumblebees, the Arctic Monkeys, The Libertines, Kasabian, or the rest, Royal Blood can write riffs. GOOD RIFFS. The kind of riffs that can lead daughters astray and grow hair on chests. Big, meaty, blues-tinted riffs, with slick pop melodies glossing the sections in between. 

Just. Riffs.

RIFFS.

RIFFSRIFFSRIFFSRIFFSRIFFS

RIFFS.

Ahem. Anyway, the next thing that I was really pleased by is how tight they are. Of course, if you're a two-piece, you have to be tighter than my best jeans after a rainstorm, but these guys are that tight, with almost surgical precision. Once upon a time, it was required that all bands be tight as a cat's claws in an uncomfortable place, but that no longer seems to be the norm. In a world where sounding like you've been out on the piss all week without rehearsing is considered acceptable, it is good to hear a band that sound like they know each other on a first-name basis.

The songs themselves aren't a particularly diverse bunch, but with the album clocking in at just over half an hour, this can be forgiven. Generally, they all revolve around cement-mixer riffs and smouldering pop hooks, which might explain why they've garnered such a buzz, as that's two large crowd-pleasers out the way. There's an aura of self-confidence and sleaze around the album too. The bass has had its mids and trebles and roaring distortion pushed up until it resembles Screamin' Jay Hawkins' voice more than it does a bass guitar, and the tempo and swing of most of the tracks here are permanently set to "swagger." And y'know what? I like that. A rock band who aren't afraid of being a big, dumb, rock band, with loads of big, dumb, rock songs. Why should we be so afraid of the big dumb rock? Why do we put it away when the guests come over? It's no more offensive than ethereally sighing indie or whatever's going on in the realms of sub-bass dance these days, surely?

I suppose, however, that's where the issues I have with Royal Blood creep in. While I'm by no means ashamed of the big, dumb rock, I'm not sure if I condone the idea that the big, dumb rock that is saving today's scene sounds the same as the big, dumb rock that's been coming out of the States for the past ten or twenty years. It's not exactly a huge leap into interesting waters.

The other main criticism I'd level against this album is that it really highlights the UK rock mainstream's utter inability to maintain good songwriting as soon as it's faced with a decent sonic punch. I'm willing to let it slide this time given the quality of the riffs, but every song sounds the same, apart from one or two moments. God forbid the next album contain power ballads, but perhaps some diversity in tone and speed and melody could be in order on the next album. Hints of spontaneity beyond the riff-verse-chorus-chorus formula?

My boyfriend's verdict on all this is that the UK music press is a load of xenophobic bollocks that navel-gazes so much that its head has become lodged in its lower bowels somewhere, and to an extent, that's true. There's a lot of phenomenal rock revival bands that are reinventing the wheel coming from all over the world currently, many of which are, when all is said and done, better that Royal Blood. The other thing my boyfriend says is "why should I listen to them if they're not as good as Cream?" Which I don't necessarily agree with, but I can see the logic in. There were better bands drifting around. In fact, there are better bands doing similar stuff drifting about right now. But that's not to decry what is, really, a good album if you're into the big, dumb rock. And I'm quite happy to sit back and allow Royal Blood to show some people that the UK mainstream isn't all about autotune if that's what it takes. At least they've got some good tracks.

To proclaim Royal Blood the second coming of sliced bread, as the charts and the press seem to be doing is, in a way, xenophobic given the wealth of great rock out there right now. It's also slightly deaf to the many, many bands across the UK that are doing rock-er things, more interesting things, or just something a bit different from the norm. And they are categorically not channelling Led Zepellin, you weird, weird people. Stop saying that every time someone holds a guitar the right way up.

But you know what? At the end of the day, it's really, really nice to hear a good, accomplished rock album that's full of power and is gloriously unpretentious, and know that people are paying attention to it. Well done, Royal Blood. You've made a good album in a genre whose mainstream is so abysmal, your actually-making-an-effort has been applauded as tantric sex in a bass amp. Keep up the good work and keep getting better.

As for the rest of you lot, please pay attention to something other than BBC Radio 2 and the world of lad-rock. There's stuff like this and better out there.

Return From the Abyss, and Musings on "Supporting the Local Scene."

Hello again! After four years of studying, music journalism, and the like, I felt that I may as well return to blogging, if only to occupy myself during the interminable period of post-degree unemployment. Living out of Lidl and being unable to afford the bus for a month or so, I now have some insight as to why Valium because so popular amongst housewives.

Anyway, something that's been bothering my circle of friends, acquaintances, and questionable Facebook denizens has been the Local Scene, and why one should (or should not) support it.

I am, in all honesty, blessed by my local scene, for it has a load of great bands, from Antlered Man, to Purson, to Cold In Berlin, to Vodun, to The Peckham Cowboys. Who are all rather excellent and you should listen to them immediately. I am still in mourning regarding Sissy & the Blisters. I managed to get concussed at one of their gigs, and whose album demos I downloaded and burned to CD, making cover art for it and everything.

But then, for every band like the ones I mentioned, there are other bands, who, for the sake of keeping the peace and avoiding too much shit-stirring, I shall not name (although my dislike of Savages is so well-documented as to merit a book in its own right, and no one listens anyway) who are part of this "local scene" and yet are about as appealing to my ears as a cat coughing up hairballs, or trying to create a skiffle band out of cardboard.

The adage goes that one should support the local scene. Implicitly there lies the word "unconditionally" at the end of that phrase, as if one is committing a grotesque act of treachery towards music if one doesn't pop off to the local to watch that rap-metal-EDM fusion band that has just started out. As one friend of mine argued, supporting the local music scene is like buying produce from the local farmers market: it gives you a much closer relationship to what is being made around you, and a much closer relationship to what you are consuming. In addition, there is the argument that all big bands started off as local bands at some point. Which are all valid arguments. Seeing the right local bands gives you a chance to be in on something unique or that isn't in the mainstream, seeing something grow in musical terms and in terms of where it plays, and so on. And there's no denying that the local scene is cheaper than the Hammersmith Apollo or Brixton Academy.

The local scene, all meme'd up and ready to go.

But the other side of the argument is that if you support the local scene for the sake of principles, rather than because you like it, you're a sycophant or a hipster. And being a grey, be-trunkèd entity wearing sandals and a fedora that stands at the back, not really approving of what is happening isn't really supporting the scene either. Sure, it might get your money, but what are you actually contributing? If the musicians just aren't that good, or the songwriting isn't good, or you're just not into it, you're giving the impression that the opposite is true. If someone who can't sing in key is constantly told by local scenesters that it was "a good set" or that they rock, for the sake of supporting the scene, well, then surely that's damaging the local scene rather than helping it.
The other argument is that the emphasis on the local scene above all else can be borderline xenophobic. If you're too caught up in the local scene, you might miss that great band who have just started touring and who need to recoup the money they've spent on van hire and hotel fees. But to see them, regardless of how much you like them, would be against your principles, as a local band you're lukewarm about are playing on the same night.

Yes, that's an extreme and perhaps unlikely scenario, but that can be what it gets like. Some people will honestly dismiss bands because they don't live within walking distance, just as much as people will dismiss a band because they're not playing "proper" venues yet. But honestly, what's the difference? If there was a disco fan in late-eighties/early-nineties Seattle who saw all the grunge bands but didn't really get what the point of it all was, then does it matter if s/he had a closer relationship with what was going on around him/her, if s/he wasn't that into it anyway? If there was a rock fan in the same city who dismissed the early grunge bands as "not worth it" because the venues they played were too small and smelled funny, but once Nirvana hit the big time was parading their shirts around like they were the messiahs of rock, then we've got the same problem from two angles.

So yes, I love bits of my local scene, but am quite open about disliking other bits. And if my favourite bands from *insert city or country here* come to play, I'll see them too. Because in the end, it's about supporting what you like, and what you think is good. It pains me to say it, but if you heart 1D, you've got as much reason and right to see them as I have dropping everything because The Vintage Caravan are playing with Grand Magus, or trekking half a city over to see The Peckham Cowboys do a gig for a cat charity in a community-run, music-funding pub. Both of which were excellent gigs, if you're into what I'm into. And I'm sure the signing you wore that onesie to was equally good, even if I do not understand the appeal of it at all.

So yeah. The local scene can be great. It can be the place where truly great bands appear, and you find a load of like-minded people to enjoy them with. Or it can be a place full or mediocre, widdling guitarists and off-key singers who make you support the local bar instead. Take a chance with it, see what's out there, and don't be afraid of seeing bands that are still at the "playing in front of the pub toilets" stage of their careers. The smell of urine may be masked by the smell of finding your new favourite band, whatever that might be (probably a wooden floor soaked with alcohol). But contrary to what people say, if it really ain't your thing, there's no point in trying to jam it down your ears like a stressed person trying to give a cat its medicine. Go see what's happening elsewhere, and try again in a few months' time.

Keep your mind and ears open to the sounds of don the road, but never at the expense of what your heart's jukebox plays.
Now, if you don't mind, I'll be on a Sissy & the Blisters binge for the rest of the day.



The bands I mentioned here, excluding One Direction 'cause they're probably a lot richer and known-about:
Antlered Man
Purson
The Peckham Cowboys
Vodun
Cold In Berlin
Grand Magus
The Vintage Caravan