It can be difficult to know how seriously to take a band like Peerless Pirates. Their schtick is jaunty, borderline whimsical pirate swashbuckling (the biography section of their website has two entirely separate texts marked ‘fact’ and ‘fantasy’), but the songwriting and performance suggest a band keener to present themselves seriously than first impressions might suggest. This puts them at risk of falling between two stools: their studio recordings are a bit too lighthearted and ramshackle, and the songs too crammed full of pirate references to be taken as a Serious Band might wish, but at the same time they err on the ponderous side when you take away the fun and silliness that they presumably have on stage. In that way they invite comparison with The Original Rabbit Foot Spasm Band: in live performance, the ORFSB can get the most genteel audience flinging themselves around with gay abandon, but the recording environment doesn’t play to their strengths and you end up with something likely to serve best as a memento of a night out rather than a delight to whet the appetite.
As other reviewers have noted, Peerless Pirates borrow an awful lot from The Smiths – mostly the jangly guitar sound, jaunty pace and perky Marr-ish music contrasting with wittily bleak lyrics. They add a touch of Interpol and Franz Ferdinand as well, and Cliff Adams’s baritone voice is cut from the same cloth as that of The Half Rabbits’ Michael Weatherburn. Peerless Pirates are a pretty traditional sounding band who wear their rock-and-roll influence clearly with harmony backing vocals; every song under three and a half minutes (with tightly choreographed endings) and twangy Shadows guitar. This is given a bit too much of a chance to shine, as it’s one of the weaker links in the whole ensemble, since the playing is neither imaginative nor impressive. The guitar breaks and solos feel like a keynote conference speech from the person who administers the name badges: it’s dependable, and finishes on time, but does nothing other than fill the space between sessions.
Sonically we’re firmly in uncontroversial territory; the arrangement and performance are restrictive and traditional, like an old-fashioned corset, and the mix leaves the whole thing sounding a bit lightweight. The songwriting, however, is clever and neat, with a lot of wordplay and wit which bears up well to repeated listening. Whether or not the combination of Smiths homage and crowbarred pirate referencing would sustain a whole album is a different question, and happily one that isn’t being asked here. This is a memento record, one to buy at the show and play to remember the fun of the gig. Listening to it without having seen the band live is appetising but frustrating, a bit like being shown photos of a sumptuous banquet. But who knows? With a different approach or a little more recording experience they could be as tasty on record next time.