The Bookhouse Boys - The Bookhouse Boys (Black)
3/5
What one can only call the nu-blues scene is enjoying a mild resurgance at the moment - and with Nick Cave's recent album rightly receiving glowing reviews the world over and America's Cage The Elephant breaking into both the top 40 albums and singles charts, along with slightly more established acts such as the Archie Bronson Outfit, The Bookhouse Boys clearly feel the need to add their two cents to the burgeoning debate.
However, before stating their case, the London nine-piece have clearly spent many a late night curled up, cheap whisky in hand, watching countless 60's movie classics. Meaning that, while they clearly hold the likes of Queens Of The Stone Age and The White Stripes in high regard, they are just as likely to be compared with The Last Shadow Puppets as with either of the former.
The greatest asset of the band is lead vocalist and delightfully named Paul Van Oestren. His rich, mournful pipes often manage to carry the songs purely on their own, and when complemented by a choir or twinned with female front Catherine Turner, the band often come to life with exhilarating effect.
There is one thing that holds the album back, but it is big. The group seem to have found solace in their Mexi-beat rhythms, surf guitars and trumpet choruses, but these minor key musings will only get you so far. Often, the album is painfully devoid of variation, with almost all songs blending into one another in such a way that you're often left screaming for a new tempo or some swift switch of key. But, when you just feel that you've had enough, the band do offer up a delightful piece that will draw you in once more.
On album standout 'Shoot You Down', guitars shimmer and swing while both Van Oestren and Turner guide us through a relationship of twisted tendencies and depraved lust. Sure, it's been done before in the grand scheme of rock 'n' roll, but when a band is still able to make it something as affecting and oddly beautiful as this, with the brass delightfully chiming and not obscuring, then all else is forgotten.
Indeed, the other occasions that the band unplug, and find a way to release their tensions in a more subtle and slow-burning manner, they manage to carve themselves out a unique niche in modern music, tunes that are at once melancholy and uplifting, soothing and invigorating. 'Baby I Gotta Go' is a soulful delight, and the schizophrenic flits of guitar that lay the bed for Van Oestren's best performance in closer 'I Believe' are as unsettling as they are refreshing.
It must be noted, to their credit, that only once do they outstay their welcome (the five and a half minute "Yer Blue"). However, on far too many occasions are the band too happy to just settle down and make some noise akin to a backstreet Arcade Fire - namely they bash out the riff, add some more layers, and make sure everyone's making some noise by the end of it.
Lyrically, Van Oestren pleads explicitly for redemption. It's clear in the final track, but it flits in all over the place. "Lift your head and your heart will follow" he orders on 'Dead'; "The heavens open at your last breath" is a message present in "The Valley". Most of the time it's fine - not great, merely fine - and even on the moments that the lyrics do wear thin ('I Can't Help Myself') Van Oestren's sheer force and compelling nature drag the song to it's end.
The darkness that permeates this album makes it an intriguing record by an intriguing band. Next time around, more will certainly be required - but for the time being, this group of self-styled latin rabble-rousers live to fight another day.
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