In a recent live review of local soft rock quartet Outcry, I described them as a hybrid of Interpol and Elton John. I realise that such a description may not be the most needle-sharp and that the faithful readership of Oxbands demands more. Can I do better when describing their recorded work?
Before I do, you should know that Outcry are mixed up with some of the least cool institutions in modern England, namely ‘Britain’s Got Talent’ and Jamie Oliver (who listed them as one of his twenty four favourite unsigned bands. Remember that this was the man that gave Toploader a career before attaching any importance to this endorsement). Still, let’s keep an open mind.
On balance, I like about half of it. David McMahon is an intuitive, soulful singer and on potent, minor-key songs like ‘Lonely Nights’ and ‘Darkness’ he exudes charisma and class. He is backed by highly competent musicians who sometimes betray their callowness by egregious Santanaesque guitar solos and piano glissandos, but there is plenty here for a decent producer to work with. There’s nothing very new, but it’s stylish and unusual for Oxford. If you only listen to a single Outcry song, try the excellent ‘Lonely Nights’ which boasts a superb Otis Redding-influenced vocal which even betrays a touch of acridity at some points. This will no doubt distress Simon Cowell. Fuck ‘im.
In contrast, best steer clear of glutinous ballads such ‘Diehard Lover’, unless you are compiling a ‘Friday Afternoon Cheese’ CD. Other numbers are hard to remember, such as the competent but colourless ‘Moving’ which brings us far too close to Elton John (dismissed, superbly, in about 1973 by Robert Christgau as a ‘puling phoney’- can anyone add anything?). The acoustic guitar solos on this song are of the sort that you used to get at 22.55 on Channel Five before it got all Tim Marlowe-and-public-service on us.
As I say, half of this is worth hearing. Sometimes innocuous, sometimes cynically commercial, Outcry nevertheless have a few big tunes which a monster audience can enjoy. If they go on to success, let’s hope they do it the right way, by which I mean building up an organic following, rather than winning the theatre of stupidity that is BGT. And hopefully Jamie Oliver will have been long-since throttled by an irate Rotherham pie eater when their first record goes platinum.