Perhaps the saddest thing about [a]Cable[/a]'s recent demise - wherein legal wrangles finally took their toll - is not that they'll be forever remembered as 'the band who did the Sprite advert', but t
Perhaps the saddest thing about [a]Cable[/a]’s recent demise – wherein legal wrangles finally took their toll – is not that they’ll be forever remembered as ‘the band who did the Sprite advert’, but that they’re unlikely to be remembered at all.
‘Sub-Lingual’ is posthumous proof that stardom was never going to be theirs; it’s got ‘above-average indie triers’ stamped all over it. Because, to be fair, [a]Cable[/a] were always handy with an understated post-grunge pop song, ably demonstrated here by the spiky lullaby ‘Pocket Promise’, but they were never special. They were always a band you felt should be making it big in the States, but never seemed prepared to rock out enough. Instead they content themselves here with lovingly polished pastiches of Nirvana (‘Hexagon Eye’), XTC (‘Land Speed Record’) and even The Fall (‘Arthur Walker’); capable of springing the odd surprise but resolutely failing to spark.
Perhaps [a]Cable[/a]’s demise is appropriately timed. Their elevation to the level of great British rock hopes was symptomatic of an industry throwing everything at the wall, hoping something might stick. When the overladen ship inevitably floundered, [a]Cable[/a] were mere ballast to be discarded. Plenty more where that came from.