As rock’n’roll partnerships go, it’s more Bert’n’Ernie than [I]Mick’n’Keef[/I]. On our left is Astrid‘s Charlie Clark – mischievous grin turned to 11, plimsolls tapping cheerily away. And, stage right, there’s his chipmunk-faced chum Willie Campbell – head nodding like a puppy while his fingers pluck the happiest of summer-spun chords.
It’s fun for a while, too – like watching a Disney-sponsored Lennon and McCartney or a pre-dentures Teenage Fanclub. But, like weather forecasts and Napalm Death songs, it doesn’t last long. Because for pop moppets Astrid, the measured twang of bland competence is too important to see them indulge in any truly engaging pop action. Instead, these Scots youngsters have snubbed the bleak uncertainties of originality in order to scamper through pop’s tried-and-tested back pages.
It’s an agenda that occasionally bears fruit – ‘Distance’ is a harmony-laden, Monkees-ish charmer, while ‘Boy Or Girl’ adds some much-needed glam esprit to their otherwise monotonously well-ordered formula. Elsewhere, however – such as the duller-than-Dulwich ‘Dusty’ – they’re a Stoneage Fanclub floundering in pop’s evolutionary waters. Y’see, there’s a hollowness at Astrid‘s safe heart – a crushing predictability that belies their breathlessly cheerful approach, rendering them utterly void as a relevant pop force. And all the cartoonish charm in the world can’t disguise that.