April 12, 2000

London Islington Union Chapel

[B]The High Fidelity[/B] reduce pop to a joyless, featureless experience. Hopefully they'll fall off the edge soon...

"Always go with your hearts, not your heads," bumbles John Peel as he introduces a band including Sean Dickson, once with baggy also-rans The Soup Dragons. However, some people just won't be told, and now, as then, Dickson isn't paying any heed to Peelie's advice.

Something this contrived can't be natural. So while 'ithanku' or 'Luv Dup' wouldn't be bad approximations of dizzy pop, they're constantly scuppered by their author's desperate desire to strike the role of genre-mashing auteur. Barely a minute passes without a stamp on an effects pedal or the superfluous addition of big beats, wah-wah, sitars, and a bemused-looking violinist, which merely serve to highlight the skinniness of his musical vision.

'Greeneye Monster' falls well short of the New Radicals' crafty pop, and 'The National Anthem' attempts to be Cornershop's 'Butter The Soul' but clanks where it should glide and staggers where a skip is needed. The rest, meanwhile, is simply a guileless hash of confused pluralism and empty gesture.

"Love is just a game", Dickson states during 'Luv Dup', but, musically and lyrically, he's just one step away from the blindingly obvious revelation that the world is round. Not in here - The Flat Earth Society is in session, and with no ups or downs The High Fidelity reduce pop to a joyless, featureless experience. Hopefully they'll fall off the edge soon.

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