Annuals - Such Fun (Red Ink)
3/5
BUY MERCH"But in all honesty, they want to be The Arcade Fire so much..."
These are the first words, penned by humble iTunes customer "seaandbells", that I encountered on the subject of North Carolina six-piece Annuals, another one of those American indie bands that seem to pop up every five seconds ever since the period we shall call A.N.S. (After 'New Slang').
Apparently this group were the recipients of quite a bit of interest back in 2006 when they released debut Be He Me - but I knew nothing of this, so I approached Such Fun with the hope of hearing something akin to everyone's favourite mega-hype group of the noughties.
Such Fun is an album that is very difficult to dislike - the melodies are lovely, the harmonies daintily crafted and tenderly executed, and, for a band that is so very much "everything-but-the-kitchen-sink", the intricacies of their music make sure they rarely stray too far into a U2-sian sound-world (save for 'Talking' and closer 'Wake', a sort of summary of all that has come before and therefore ends with a both colossal and impenetrable fortress of noise).
And indeed, the opening trio draw you in with a mixture of utter charm, admirable musicianship and above all wily melodies that burrow into your subconscious in a way that, on subsequent plays, makes you smile with a warmth akin to that of meeting with an old school-friend. Lead single and opener 'Confessor' kicks the record off sharply, with jangly-guitars flitting around key and vocal with mischievous glee, and 'Hot Night Hounds' adds further urgency, the push-and-shove drums and click-click production almost forcing the song out of the speakers and into the wider world.
This apparent need to be loved is, in fact, what holds the record back. Annuals trade in pastiche, their sound is meant to be comforting and familiar, and for a band that does this so well it often means a message or a sense of identity gets lost amongst the further piling on of various borrowed musical idiosyncrasies. The very first lyric on the record, "pack up and leave every day", expresses their need to jump so rapidly between styles that it leaves the listener disorientated, and although they might see this as making Such Fun an album that keeps you guessing, more often than not it's flaw is that you become less surprised when they do end up combining all of their stolen styles, as on the previously mentioned 'Wake'.
So instead we are lumbered with frustrating forays into country rock (the worst offender being the veritable hootenanny of 'Down The Mountain'), and the immeasurably annoying classic guitar licks that drag down 'Hot Night Hounds' and 'Wake'. We contend with such lyrical delights as "I'm gonna make you/if you don't love me" that are then contradicted by the following "I'm gonna place you so high above me/because you love me/like you always do". And next, we're treated to the Howling Bells-esque lollop on 'Confessor', and the blues stomp of 'Hair Don't Grow'. Indeed, 'Hair Don't Grow' perhaps epitomises the frustrating nature of Such Fun - after three minutes of fairly lumbering and predictable emotio-rock, the whole thing suddenly collapses, and it seems, for a few brief seconds, that out of these ashes will rise something wholly engaging, exciting and above all original. But then the strings slide in, and it becomes a coda, for both the song and indeed the Annuals sound.
However, the final track of that opening three, 'Springtime', is an utter joy. Proving that they truly can make something entirely their own out of other people's parts, it kicks off with a cheap piano that wouldn't sound out of place on a Ben Folds record. While moving through some chord sequences borrowed straight from Sam's Town, the group balance some delicate harmonies with the sweet refrain of "let the springtime sing". Around ninety seconds in, it introduces a drum-beat that is somehow both colossal and understated, and spends the remaining two and a half minutes achieving something the band spend the other thirty seven attempting to emulate - a truly epic song that is all their own work. Through dense chorus lines and brash sing-alongs come two stabs of sound, entirely unexpected and so sparingly utilised that their effect is beautifully muddling, that in turn cut the track apart and place it a cut above. "seaandbells" may have had a point - the group do too often dabble in mimicry rather than originality, but this glorious four minutes prove that, when wanted, they can show themselves to be a damn fine band. Here's to their third round, and here's to the 'Springtime' sound.
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