A deliberately frothy take on an under-documented moment in US politics
London Islington Hope & Anchor
All that remains is for them to turn themselves into a triumph of content over style, their gestures into genius...
Kissed by the Californian sun, they already hold most of the cards: their father composed the delightful 'Wichita Lineman', and added elegant melancholy to the '60s psychedelic bloodbath. They themselves have composed a single, 'I'm Over And I Know It', that mooches with a pinch of the same style. All that remains is for them to turn themselves into a triumph of content over style, their gestures into genius.
A tricky business that is too, when your bass player has his hair cut by Cadfael, but they try. A succession of Justin's beautifully polished changes, Christian's pained vocalising, and what emerges is that rather than reanimating the spirit of a greater songwriting era, they have defrosted, Austin Powers-like, the sounds of several '60s also-rans. Their songs not allowed to fully develop, they deprive themselves of even being Zager And Evans.
'I'm Over And I Know It' is the exception, majestic and swooning and very, very long, but by now we've started to notice the half-inch of exposed ankle on those suits and the flaws in their cunning plan. Perhaps they just weren't tailor-made for these times, y'know.
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