It’s impossible to
tire of Half Man Half Biscuit, regardless of the unfortunate fact that bands
trading on wit and sardonicism tend to have a short shelf life. The Biscuits,
however, are made of sterner ingredients.
After a break of
four years, following 2014’s eight-out-of-ten Urge For Offal, they’re back
in action for their 13th studio album for which I am expecting exceptionally good
things.
Usually the song
titles alone are an indicator of the content and in tracks such as Alehouse Futsal, Mod. Diff. Vdiff. Hard Severe, and Swerving the Checkatrade, it’s obvious that the Wirral four-piece
has lost none of its panache and love for the minutiae of life.
The archetypal
Nigel Blackwell cynicism about life’s characters is cranked up to 11 for a
track that has its heart (and nose) in South America:
“You went from
Magaluf to Stalingrad/ On altogether more different snow” which leads to
Blackwell stating the bleedin’ obvious: “What made Colombia famous/ Has made a
prick out of you.”
Knobheads on Quiz Shows is, rather disappointingly, given its
title, one of the weaker tracks, but the scathing lyrics pretty much make up
for the limp bog-standard indie. Village idiots on television is par for the
course, and they’re an easy target – which is why they are hauled up by the
producers in the first place. But the Biscuits make it into an acidulous crusade
anyway:
“I don’t watch
films in black and white/ The trees and flowers and birds have passed me by/
I’ll just guess and hope I’m right/ The first man into space was Captain
Bligh.”
Its caustic
content makes it the natural successor to Bad
Losers on Yahoo Chess (from the band’s 2008 album CSI: Ambleside).
Renfield’s Afoot is equally caustic, with Blackwell
beginning with his observation of a notification about a bat walk which recommends
taking along warm waterproof clothing and a flask, and a time to meet. To which
the Biscuits go all punk rock guitar and our hero has a go at the well-meaning
organiser, informing them that he knows the place like the back of his hand and
won’t be following the party line …
“So don’t go
trying to organise my bat walks/ I’ll be going on any-time-I-like walks” …
The outdoor life,
you sense, is one that Blackwell adores but has an intense dislike for those
who partake in such pleasures. Such as the man who got a Boardman bike off a
Cycle to Work scheme and now goes out every Sunday in a “full Sky replica kit.”
Football mentions
are alas brief, nothing in the line of All
I Want for Christmas is A Dukla Prague Away Kit.
There’s namechecks
for Dorothy Perkins, Battenberg cake, the Hadron Collider and Throbbing Gristle
– and that’s just on Harsh Times in
Umberstone Covert.
On realising that perhaps he is being a little too obscure, and for the assistance of his listeners in Crieff and Kinross, Blackwell whispers after a chorus in Bladderwrack Allowance mentioning Robert of Blaby, that Blaby is in Leicestershire.
Here’s some more
lyrics:
“Somebody’s
mumbling Galatians/ Somewhere a wolf-print fleece needs 90 degrees/ Pushchair-related
confrontations/ Pastoral conceits, Italian fancies, comic glees.” (Terminus)
“I don’t think
I’ve encountered a man so irate/ You’re a better man than I if you get past his
gate/ He treats hawkers and Mormons with equal disdain/ Jesus I feel won’t be
coming back again.”
(Man of Constant Sorrow (With a Garage in
Constant Use))
I think you get
the picture, but the wit and obscure references are more than matched by a band
on fire and making a sound that is ensuring this album is gaining more attention
that the past few.
Oh, and the insert
includes a crossword. I don’t imagine any Cliff Richard albums had one of
those.
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