Go1Der hohe Gesang könnte für einige zum Ausschlusskriterium werden – John Bill würde vermutlich sagen, dass die Stimme bei ihm „Ausschlag“ verursacht.)
Billy Mackenzie verursacht das jedenfalls bei John Bill. Die Vermutung liegt als nahe.
Da Go1 auf Uncut verweist, habe ich hier eine Rezension von „Two dancers“, wobei Wild Beasts hier verglichen werden mit: Billy Mackenzie (!), Smiths, Orange Juice, U2, Noel Coward, Roxy Music und Elbow. Allein die Vielzahl zeigt, dass es sich um etwas Innovatives hier handelt. Zu ihrem 80s Sound schreibt Uncut:
„Their records, however – and Two Dancers is Wild Beasts’ second album – carry the unmistakeable taint of the ’80s, but an ’80s which those of us who never saw the charm of, say, Depeche Mode can more readily identify with. There’s a certain opulent shimmer to songs like the glassy, undulating opener, “The Fun Powder Plot”, which recalls late-period Roxy Music, while the unstable yodel of frontman Hayden Thorpe is, if anything, kin to that of Associates’ Billy Mackenzie.
More pointedly, Wild Beasts summon up the ghosts of that
decade’s brainier, more flamboyant indie bands. The scratchy echoes of Orange Juice that filled out last year’s debut, Limbo, Panto, have been largely excised. But the gleaming possibilities that The Smiths opened up for British guitar bands – and which many British guitar bands, not least those from Manchester, have grossly oversimplified in the interim – feel like they’ve found a new champion.
Two Dancers, consequently, has an appealing air of bookish, ornate yearning, exemplified by “This Is Our Lot” (a sequel, musically, to the debut’s outstanding “Woebegone Wanderers”), in which Thorpe croons, unsteadily, “We’re all quiffed and cropped, this is our lot, we hold each other up heavy with hops”, while Benny Little’s guitar traces luxuriant circles in the manner of “The Headmaster Ritual”. Meat Is Murder is a handy reference point all round, not least in showing how an indie guitar band can stretch out into elegant, slightly dazed grooves. The pulsing “We Still Got The Taste Dancing On Our Tongues” could, at a push, be described as indie-dance, but it’s far more organic and silvery than the hybrids which that usually implies.
Along with “Hooting And Howling”, “We Still Got The Taste…” shows how insidious Wild Beasts can be, its ringing guitar tone, subtly reminiscent of The Edge, implying that the band do not lack commercial, as well as artistic, ambition. The suspicion remains, however, that they have the wrong kind of eccentricities to be successfully marketed: that post-punk Noel Cowards are not quite as easily assimilated as groomed Annie Lennox clones. Although some of the clip-clopping self-consciousness of Limbo, Panto has been toned down, Thorpe’s mannered gargling may still alienate the masses, too.
Wild Beasts, however, have one more secret weapon – a second fine singer in bassist Tom Fleming. It is Fleming who fronts the band on four out of the ten songs here, with a hugely reassuring baritone that stands comparison with Guy Garvey. One of them, “All The King’s Men”, could even act as a rallying cry for a distressed minority left unmoved by La Roux. Fleming calls out to, “Girls from Roedean, girlsfrom Shipley, girls from Hounslow, girls from Whitby,” and it is hard not to cheer him on. The alternative ’80s revival might, hopefully, start here.“
Der Guardian kommt ebenso mit dem Associates Vergleich, der aber nicht wirklich greift:
„Equally, however, there are moments when the fuss about Wild Beasts is entirely understandable, when they seem boldly original or when they don’t sound like anyone else (not even The Affectionate Punch-era Associates, whose swooping vocals, heavily-affected post-punk guitars and penchant for campy lyrical grandiloquence offer their most obvious precedent).“
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