First Listen: The Rumble Strips ‘Welcome To The Walk Alone’

First Listen:
The Rumble Strips
‘Welcome To The Walk Alone’
(Allido)

The Rumble Strips’ first album, ‘Girls And Weather’, revealed a band who harked back to the golden era of British pop, a band trapped in a timewarp that was stuck between the heyday of Britpop and a Wartime ballroom boogie. With their quiffs, brass section and leathers, they were as far from the nu-rave no-brains that were taking over London as you could get without moving to Antigua, a band who seemed to have a keen sense of melody as well as purpose, as suave as they were scuzzy. It made it intriguing – or, depending on which way you look at it, baffling – then when they said that their second album was to be produced by Hanger-On Hero Mark Ronson, a man whose made his name from producing one good album (Amy Vinyard’s ‘Back To Black’), making one massively shit one (his own ‘Covers’) and whose last production magic failed to stop Kaiser Chiefs’ third effort sinking like the Titanic with Beth Ditto onboard. So, how will ‘Welcome To The Walk Alone’ fare? Will it put Charlie Waller & co. up amongst the indie glitterati? Or stuck in the gutter? The Fly sticks it on for the First Listen treatment. And please remember children, this is just first reactions, the official Fly review will follow in the July issue of the magazine…

‘Welcome To The Walk Alone’
The opening, and title, track starts off with a dramatic Ennio Morricone vibe, a slo-mo surge of brass bringing ‘Welcome To The Walk Alone’. “Welcome to the walk alone/Come right on in/Make yourself at home” croons Charlie Waller over some barroom piano. A woozy loungey 70s feel glides over the song as an orchestra swoops in, Ronson’s kitchen sink production evident after little more than a minute. The song fades out without much happening. Feels a little undercooked.

‘London’
Much more like first album Rumble Strips, this. ‘London’’s jaunty stomp revolves around a simple pop hook – “Why can’t I love you in London?” – with Spector-esque production giving it a widescreen feel. It feels a little like it should be the closer to a musical. A musical about East London skiffle-scamps, per’aps. It’s a simple song, a little too simple maybe – aside from that indelible hook, there’s not much more to it.

‘Not The Only Person’
A bit of bombast kicks ‘Not The Only Person’ into life. Like ‘London’, there’s a single line that’s repeated on ‘Not The Only Person’ that lodges itself in thine earhole and refuses to leave until you write a First Listen singing it’s praises. There’s a delicacy to the instrumentation that was missing from their first album that suggests the band were done with using their brass players in the traditional in-your-face way, instead they form more of a brassy soundscape. If that doesn’t make sense then read it over and over until it does. Like the first two tracks, ‘Not the Only Person’ doesn’t overstay it’s welcome, coming to a close after just two minutes and twenty-one seconds.

‘Daniel’
This doesn’t just share a title with Elton John, there’s a bit of ‘Yellow Brick Road’-era tint to the understated string swoon of ‘Daniel’, too. There’s a dramatic, buccaneering middle section, too, the songwriting on this a little more developed than anything else so far on the album. Best song so far – mainly for that middle section.

‘Douglas’
We’ve had Daniel, now we have Douglas. Rumble Strips’ melodies have a sort of nostalgic warmth to them that you think you’ve heard them before – ‘Douglas’ could be a Patsy Cline song. The production is lush (doesn’t mean we like you, RONSON) but its meandering pace feels a little ploddy.

‘Back Bone’
There’s nothing really remarkable to ‘Back Bone’ – it feels like the first bit of album filler on ‘Welcome To…’. Their melodies are usually so strong, but ‘Back Bone’ is soporific for all the wrong reasons, bit boring really…

‘Sweet Heart Hooligan’
A melancholic, boozy vignette that’s under two minute displays Charlie’s distinctive voice against a plaintive, piano ballad. Coming after the album’s worst track so far, ‘Sweet Heart Hooligan’ is exactly the sort of bluesy storytelling elegance that Rumble Strips excel at.

‘Running On Empty’
‘Running On Empty’ resembles the straight-arrowed, fast-paced indie-folk that brought Rumble Strips’ early singles to prominence. This sounds like a country-tinged but highly-energetic Supergrass, or Texan indie-drawlers The Features without the bile. It’s not single material, with no discernable chorus, but it’s a refreshing upping of the tempo.

‘Dem Girls’
This is the sort of playful barroom blues that Rumble Strips should do more of – it sounds like The Specials if they were from 1870, whilst Charlie is at his charismatic, bellowing best. An album highlight, and a reminder that when they shed their predictability Rumble Strips can veer into occasional greatness.

‘Raindrops’
Despite the precipitated title, this is actually upbeat 60s sunshine-pop. Again, the brass lurks in the background before it takes centre stage for the song’s coda. Sometimes on ‘Welcome To…’, Rumble Strips sound like they don’t know how to end a song properly, stopping dead with no warning. ‘Raindrops’ has a good old fashioned fadeout with a climactic melody you don’t want to end.

‘Happy Hell’
“4-letter word/L-O/Then trail off…” goes Charlie’s devilish Chris Isaak-esque intro to the album’s slow-building closer. It’s panoramic in scope, but seems a little short on ambition; nothing much actually happens, then something little happens, then the song finishes. It’s the main frustration on an album that always feels like it’s got more to offer, the songs ending just when they’re becoming interesting…