Secret Meeting score: 65
by Andrew Lewis
Kurt Vile. His name would suggest a particular kind of music if you weren’t better informed. A Sid Vicious type character perhaps? Definitely not. Last year, I woke up in a hotel room in Brisbane drowning in froth – naked, shivering in the morning temperatures as some rubbish local radio station was fizzing in the background. The evening before, I’d watched the England cricket team get a serious hiding from a mediocre Australian side, so the after-effects of about fifteen pints and 35-degree heat were in full effect.
Over Everything, at the time, was the latest single from the album, Sea of Lice, which Vile had recorded with Courtney Barnett. It was an absolute cracker of a tune and it certainly helped me get myself to the pub again much sooner than expected. His latest album, however, doesn’t quite grab you with the same level of intrigue. Philadelphia-based Vile opens the record with Loading Zones and optimism is high. It’s an Americana jangle. It has rambling lyrics that run off all over the place. And it’s right up my street.
Sadly, the record stumbles soon after. This is Vile’s ninth studio LP and he seems bored. Neither Hysteria nor Yeah Bones go anywhere and the fourth track, Bassackward (all ten minutes of it), becomes frustrating after the initial minute of vaguely interesting backwards guitars – “I’ve always had a soft-spot for repetition.” It’s not a lie!
My favourite song on the album comes in the form of Rolling With The Flow. The storytelling is back to the kind of thing you’d expect from a man with such a good track-record. It’s a country classic, and it reignites the interest. Check Baby is equally as excellent – recalling memories of Butthole Surfers’ Pepper and it instantly grabs you with the feel of mid-90’s REM when they momentarily ‘went weird’.
I really don’t want to be too negative about the record, because many people will love it. They’ll sit in their living rooms on a Sunday with a big fat reefer and get lost in its repetition. But it doesn’t quite click for me. Cold With The Wind is the only real highlight from here on in, which is a shame. Three tracks, ten-minutes a-piece is either self-indulgent or lazy and I can’t quite work out which.
Perhaps it will grow on me eventually. Perhaps the next time, I’ll get pissed in Australia and take it to the beach for my hangover.
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