If you can stand talking to one for long enough, sooner or later an estate agent shall tell you that only one thing really matters in selling houses: location. And in music, the most significant element affecting our judgement is context. Change the context and we’ll all think something new about the music. Sloppy funk covers might be fun in a youth club charity battle of the bands, but would seem pretty facile at a state funeral. So much music works differently in the live arena than in the studio – Redox is one of the most entertaining live bands in town, but has anyone listened to the last EP more than once?
It’s with this in mind that we approach the new EP by one of our favourite locals acts, Stornoway, because there’s a great big sore thumb sticking out a mile, and that offending digit is EP closer, “The Good Fish Guide”. Quite a good laugh live, with Jon Ouin intoning the title like a twisted ringmaster, whilst seven shades of hellish carnival unfold around him, with chanted fish breeds being traded with horse headed jazz (you have to see it to understand), but it’s a bit of a disaster on record. A big clumsy whoop ushers in the song, and already our thoughts are wandering towards The Toy Dolls’ take on “Nellie The Elephant”, and that’s before the verses have nudged our memories towards The Divine Comedy’s “A Seafood Song” and the muted trumpet has caused us to shudder with recollection of The Big Ben Banjo Band. It’s just a bit of a bloody mess, to be frank, with the stagnant air of a failed 5th form revue. Even Jon can’t raise his game, and chooses some “funny” voices for his part, including a woeful Brummie and what might be Rolf Harris. The only good things we can say about “The Good Fish Guide” are that it has a serious ecological message, it raises money for The Marine Conservation Society, and the unexpected quotation of “That’s Entertainment” by The Jam on muted trumpet made us chuckle.
OK, we’ve got that out of the way. Phew. The rest of the EP is thankfully as good, if not better, than Stornoway’s previous two majestic recordings, and manages to cram a myriad of ideas into each song, without losing sight of Brian Briggs’ gorgeously heroic yet melancholic vocals, that have the bittersweet tenor of a victory song sung by the last soldier standing. “Unfaithful” opens with the sort of tremoloed 50s shoegazing guitar that mid-90s media darlings Madder Rose used to trade in, before a creamy vocal about cars and dreams starts lifting your hearts. Just before it can turn into a twee Springsteen, however, an avalanche of dissonant piano collapses around us with a (sergeant) peppering of fairground melodies.
Even better is “The Pupil Of Your Eye”, which intriguingly mashes together two very different songs, one of which is a Sci-Fi new wave blast about “magnetic fields” and “electric currents”, featuring some fantastic wibbly keys, and the other is cheeky organ clomp. They’d both be great songs on their own, and illogically they get better in company.
We hear some of the old Stornoway in “Here Comes The Blackout”, all folky guitar, fluid bass, subtle keys and close harmonies, which is a welcome break before the title track, in which Simon & Garfunkel take over a drum and bass session and some incredible cymbal work makes a sound like sunlight glinting from an icicle. Except even better. And after all that we still feel there’s plenty on these four tracks that we haven’t touched on, and that this EP is an embarrassment of riches…whereas the final track is just a bit of an embarrassment. Of course, 95% of people will think exactly the opposite; that’s why the world is beyond hope.