Daniel Kemp's (fair) Music Reviews!

Released in 2009, Toothpick Bridge is the third album by ist. Not a band I had previously heard of, they have not yet quite ‘made it’ into the popular mainstream (lucky them, I say) and have been flying under radars for some time now. Signed to little-known new label Monkey Basket Records, over the years ist has survived the departure and even death of some of its band members. It’s a wonder they are still here at all. Thankfully, they are still very much with us, and Toothpick Bridge can be purchased in MP3 format from www.Amazon.co.uk or can be listened to for free if you are lucky enough to have Spotify (the album is also available in CD format via ist’s official website).

The opening The Boy’s Not Right sets itself up to fall with its tried and tested punk-lite formula. True, musically, Toothpick Bridge initially seems to be solid if perhaps a little unspectacular throughout, but repeated listens reveal that ist have incorporated a variety of novelty flourishes into proceedings - such as the horns and harmonica on second track Pep Talk - which often takes a great melody and exploits its potential, elevating it to another level. It’s nice to hear an established band that is still hungry for achievements and isn’t afraid to try something new. The faintly country-western flavoured Headache – crested with monochrome guitar slides and a fleeting vocal performance from Kenton Hall - is perhaps a move in the wrong direction, if one carried out with typical élan and an air of confidence for a band on their third album. Whether you like it or not is down to personal preference, as the band clearly knows what they are doing. One cannot simply dismiss Rebecca, though. This ‘Rebecca’ really must have done something nasty to our songwriters for them to slip in such a mediocre musical masquerade as this to justify their hatred towards said love interest. The fast-paced guitar slaughtering and indecipherable wordplay recalls early Clash. Only, you know, crap. Never much liked early Clash, either, to be honest.

A Scotsman in a Church is the kind of music I just don’t expect from indie bands anymore, therefore leaving me taken aback and affected. The narcissistic words and cutting delivery recalls Morrissey in his prime, “Ten thousand miles by credit card and ten yards from the local bar. Five hundred years of history and ten pints tell you who you are!” The rhythm section is terrific, and again it is the interweaving between the guitar and horn section which sticks with you. Peppy and jovial, it is amongst the album’s vital moments. Would You Buy A Bible From This Man? manages to avoid the ostentatious endeavours which its title perhaps alludes to and sees the band firing on all cylinders. The animated vocal performance during the chorus is intensely rattling, “Is that the world in the palm of his hand? Would you buy a Bible from this man?” Now toot my harmonica and fiddle with my guitar head, but the guitar solo as heard three minutes in is resplendent. Not usually a fan of freeform solos, I was left suitably impressed by this. As the album’s longest track it had to deliver and it does.

“Damn they always play this song when I’ve been drinking,” recalls Kenton Hall, “elbows on the bar, head in both hands!” Demand is no doubt intended to be a touching commemoration towards one man’s lifelong sense of discontentment, but this piano-driven expression of grief is whiny, tenuous and entirely dissatisfying. And it may have been more convincing if the slap-bass monster Remington Steele didn’t bring its corrupting influences onto the scene so soon afterwards. Because, oh yeah, this baby rocks. Now where’s my copy of Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik by The Red Hot Chili Peppers (Remington Steele’s very lifeblood can be traced back to Flea’s fingering of the frets on Give It Away).

The instrumental Yer Man’s A Bingo Caller bustles with all the energy of a peak era Smiths’ b-side coupled with Robert Smith going through his psychedelic episodes circa 1984. Think the aptitude of Rubber Ring meeting the zaniness of The Caterpillar and you’re half way there. A few more pieces like this wouldn’t have gone amiss and I’m selecting it as one of the very best cuts on Toothpick Bridge. The album closes with the mellow She Clears Her Throat. “They pour cheap wine, as condolences are mimed”, as one last tear-jerking look to the past is afforded, “They cling to preservation, every platter soaked in brine.” When all is said and done She Clears Her Throat might just be the album’s most personable footpath down memory lane.

As to be expected of an album fourteen tracks long, it does carry some extra flab around the midsection. And just as a menopausal housewife preparing for her anniversary night, or an ageing man sucking in his gut as he undresses before his spouse of many years, it could have done to lose a little before releasing itself on the unsuspecting public. As it stands, though, I have been very pleasantly surprised by Toothpick Bridge and it is well worth checking out if you’re in the market for some fresh and exciting new indie music.