Brit rock is back in the stone age
The summer of pomp in England just found a soundtrack.
In the wake of the Jubilee and the Olympics come two bands — The Darkness and The Heavy — who cravenly aim to evoke the U.K.’s last sustained reign of rock swagger: way back in the late ’60s to early ’70s.
Listeners will remember Darkness (if with a shudder), from their decision, nearly a decade ago, to revive flagrantly corny hair-metal during the peak of neo-garage-rock. Few could witness their knuckledragging music and gonad-squeezing vocals without suppressing a snicker.
To the band’s credit, you weren’t entirely meant to. The Darkness did have a certain humor, if not enough to fully redeem the handme-down quality of their music or the sight of singer Justin Hawkins in a Speedo shrieking like Robert Plant with his hand stuck in a meat shredder.
Hawkins must doubt we remember this, because in the opening song on “Hot Cakes” (The Darkness’ first album in seven years), he feels the need to remind us he used to be famous. “There were seas of sleeveless T-shirts/and cues around the block,” he yelps, ending the lyric with a rhyming obscenity.
Funny stuff, admittedly. But those who would go to any lengths to hear a swipe at old-fashioned crunch-rock will probably take everything here seriously indeed. Within that realm, the new Darkness music sounds less like ’80s metal than like some artificially sweetened smoothie of ’70s Thin Lizzy, Foghat and Queen.
The Heavy share The Darkness’ unrepentant love of grandeur, volume and nostalgia, though they’ve revived a less commonly referenced sliver of classic rock — namely the rock-soul nexus of Humble Pie, Free and young Terry Reid.
It’s a rich trove to mine and The Heavy’s one-named singer, Swaby, has the kind of meaty power you need to put it over. You’ve undoubtedly heard his deep-lunged yowl in the “How You Like Me Now,” the terrific hit off the band’s last CD, which turned up in more TV ads than Moby’s entire ’90s catalogue combined.
Like that hit, the new songs are catchy and forceful. Too bad the band constantly undercuts them with heavily stringed, faux-cinematic arrangements that sound like lost cousins to “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.” The backup singers aim for the ’60s soul wails of Clydie King or Venetta Fields, but sound more like castrated munchkins.
In the end, it’s nice that The Heavy and The Darkness go for a brand of rock hardly anyone goes near anymore. But their efforts only display why more bands don’t: It’s all been done before, so much better.