August 30, 1998

Neo Wave

In years to come, 'Neo Wave' will be regarded as a benchmark album....

1 / 10 IN YEARS TO COME, 'Neo Wave' will be regarded as a benchmark album. It will assume historical importance as the chunk of Britpop cheese that finally choked the bloated, complacent mainstream music industry in this country to death. This, in 1998, is the final twitch of the major label indie patient. We'll not see the like again this century, hopefully.

It's a pitifully determined last stand. No drop of production gloss has been skimped on 'Neo Wave' in an effort to fulfil the sleazy dreams of these desperate fools, fools whose eyes are so plainly fixed on the prize of mid-'70s pop stardom. Of course, it is no longer the mid-'70s but that doesn't impede Silver Sun in their efforts to rip off Cheap Trick, The Korgis, 10cc, ELO and The Knack. Sadly, if they really are living in the mid-'70s then they will be beaten up by punks next year.

Unlike their heroes, however, they cannot write a memorable tune. It just isn't in them, although they can slide their fingers down the fretboard and make a sound like 'weeennggg!' They think, too, that by harmonising in high voices they sound like The Beach Boys, like ELO. They don't. They sound like vaudeville indie kids with evil coke eyes. They sound like a Robbie Williams support act. They are a Robbie Williams support act. Or is that The Supernaturals?

They are also stupid and sexist. Bit strong? Let's play their song called 'Only A Girl', where James Broad sings, "This is another song about an imaginary bird... I like it best when she walks upstairs minus her underwear - looks like a butterfly ready to go". The chorus goes: "It's only a girl, there'll be another one on the way - what do you say!?" We say that when Silver Sun split up they will be forced to kiss and go out with each other, and we will laugh at their pug-ugly misery.

Of course, NME may be missing the irony intended in this music. We may have a different idea about how to have a good time with pop music. This record could be throwaway and dizzy, but brilliant and life-affirming too. We could only bear to play the album once, so we stand to be corrected, but our hunch is that James Broad hits it on the head when he pleads on 'Sharks': "Keep me away from the sharks!" Too late, Broad. Sharks thrive on dead meat and plankton.