Battle – Break The Banks (Transgressive)
October 25, 2007
You wait ages for a belligerently titled band to turn up and two come along at once. Ain’t it always the way? Not to be confused with the American prog, jazz, rock, dance, avant garde outfit, Battle are a London-based quartet who met up in the mean… lecture halls of the University of Kent in 2000 (trivial robfact: I was offered a place there a whole decade before that, when the vice chancellor was ardently pro-cannabis and they actually had a ‘smoking room’ just off the union bar. Naturally, I went to Hull. I am an idiot) and started making music together. Fast forward to 2005 and they are lurking around some disused vault in Luton when they are not supporting the likes of Bloc Party, The Rakes and British Sea Power. Bringing you right up to date, they have just finished touring with the arse-kicking Kubichek! and have released their debut album, ‘Break The Banks,’ which is what this review is all about. If you hadn’t guessed already.
Produced by Geoff Knowler and mixed by Adrian Hall, who has already put in some time for label mates The Young Knives, this album gathers together their single releases so far and a smattering of new stuff to keep the fans happy. For all those unfamiliar with their work (ie. Me), this is pretty irrelevant. I don’t even know why I included it. So, down to the business that is music.
Quoting The Smiths as one of their major influences, I don’t think it is unfair to deal with Battle as two symbiotic yet individual entities: Jason Bavanandan and the rest of the band, specifically Jamie Ellis. It’s a guitar-vocalist thing. I only say this because, whereas the music has a sweeping epic pop sound, mindful of U2, Manic Street Preachers and, on one occasion, the Strokes, Jason’s vocals are sparse and grounded, with the odd foray into surreal imagery (“why has this piano been discarded in the rain” from ‘Looking for Bullets’ is about as prime an example as you are going to get). Sound wise, comparisons can be drawn to Bloc Party’s Kele Okereke or Reverend (of Makers fame) – urban and funky but ultimately business-like and unpretentious, especially considering the monotonal delivery of tracks such as ‘Longest Time’ and ‘North Sea’. But this doesn’t necessarily make for a dull album, because it allows the rest of the band to collectively go off on one. A bit. Successfully too, to some extent.
As a flock of metallic seabirds are chased off by Oliver Davies urgent Beatles-baiting drums, a lone guitarist takes to that alien shore, sending out a familiar mayday of a riff that apes the Automatic’s biggest hit. Strings spiral around it slowly rising to a climax that fades to that same lone guitar. Very cliff top, as is ‘Negotiation’ and ‘North Sea’ – you can almost see the foot on the monitor. There are, however, moments of joviality: ‘Demons’ has that buzzing intensity that the Strokes captured so expertly, ‘Paper Street’ jangles and sirens at turns and ‘History’ is essentially ‘Friday, I’m In Love’ with different lyrics. It boils down to a love of grand gestures with those guitars, perhaps a bit too much so. Meanwhile, Oliver is trying his darnedest to throw in some interesting fills, regardless of what Jason wants or needs. Interesting, but rhythmically needy.
Beneath all this, there is a sinister something that I can’t quite locate. Perhaps it lies in Tim Scudder’s innocuous bass lines, but I can’t produce any hard evidence to back this up. Sudden hints of poignant wistfulness break out like a cloud across the sun or a sudden lack of serotonin; lines of melody are left horribly exposed like recently discovered bones poking through the earth. Something’s up, and it’s not Jason singing, ‘I’m being chased by killer bees.’ It’s intangible, and I am ashamed at being a total cop-out, but that is how it is.
So there’s definitely something there. Though members of the band seem to be pursuing their own ends, it all hangs together quite adequately and though it may not be a complete musical fire-starter, there is definitely something there. Deja vu. Something dark amidst the pop. Something scary in the gloss. The sort of thing you’d want to see in a new band. All they need to do is give it full rein.