It’s a strange world we live in. Men with beards that would only years ago have seen them immediately signed to the social security register as homeless are now the ultimate female lure. You can say the word ‘crap’ on the radio and not be bombarded by a swarm of angry middle-aged mothers, intent on sketching you out as one of Satan’s most loyal and dastardly companions. It’s an age where NME have declared for the umpteenth year running, this is the year of the Great British Guitar Revolution. Oh, and have they mentioned it’s spearheaded by some dour youths from Brighton with increasingly gash haircuts?
It’s a frightening state of affairs – one in which a band is only entitled to be cool and ‘hip’ (people still use the word hip, right?) if they open their album with an intro track. Yes, we all love Foals and alt-J and we all want to be Yannis Philippakis, but how hard can every intro track get fucked? Just get on with it, for the love of god.
But when noodling intros, which could be the b-side from a cassette you bought of a whale song to help you get to sleep are regarded – not as an optional extra – but as an unmissable dollop of hyperclichéd goodness. Enter Lower Than Atlantis with an album that can help you forget this bizarre world arrayed in front of you. An album which, if the Mercury Music Prize was taken seriously anymore by the people who select the nominees, would have already been announced as the winner of the prize in 2015. Fo’ real.
What Mike Duce and his Watford based comrades Ben Sansom, Eddy Thrower and Dec Hart have achieved is an album to not just announce this band on the world stage, but to scream it naked from the rooftops, waving its collective cock from side to side maniacally, saying ‘pay attention to us, we’re not going away’. Quite a publicity stunt that would be, but flaccid, flapping cocks aside, LTA’s self-titled fourth album is the record they will be remembered for.
Immediately, opening single ‘Here We Go’ feels like it clocks in at around the length of a full album. Simply because of the amount of times you will end up pressing the repeat button. With a chorus as colossal as the Titan of Braavos and lyrics effectively spelling out the path this band are currently travelling on: “now, we’re raging on like a locomotive / shout, we’re coming through / we’re heading for ya / we are above all of the commotion / we are on track so get back behind us.”
The emphatically catchy choruses don’t stop there: the entire album is a catalogue in how to write a bonafide alternative rock banger, with tune after tune on the record having instant repeatability. So much so, that it’ll likely take you an age to get through the album as each track has its unique facets to get your head around. The rhythmic ‘90s-esque drum beat of ‘Stays the Same’, punctuated by Duce’s indomitable vocals, is a particular standout.
The most confusing and arguably triumphant feature of ‘Lower Than Atlantis’ is ‘Criminal’, where the band go full Matt Bellamy on acid conducting the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra. At times it feels like a sample from ‘The 2nd Law’, as Mike Duce gets increasingly angst ridden and begins to yell, “yes, sir, we’re gonna get some action / you distract ‘em and I will attack them.” Yes, it’s as mad as it sounds, but it’s spectacularly mad at the same point, making for completely compelling listening. It’s stadium ready rock; the savvy song writing of ‘Changing Tune’ show Lower Than Atlantis have found their niche and have hammered home their point to devastating effect.
They do the grandiose and the massive incredibly well, while also showing in the opening chords of ‘Just What You Need’ Duce and co. That they’re capable of the understated. The brilliantly built ‘Time’ is such a simple construction but with the introduction of some new voices, it becomes a layered far more textured piece of songwriting.
Lower Than Atlantis prove on this record they’re similar to Shrek.
Bear with me…
They’re a beast with layers, possessing the ability to slam out tracks that sound like they were penned to serenade mass crowds at Wembley, until you peel back the layers when they show they’re capable of songwriting that could pluck the tightest of heartstrings. They can produce a pop banger like ‘Emily’, which feels like it could almost be inspired by Busted, and then they burst in with an unquestionably huge tune like ‘Damn Nation’. Bursting at the brims with every alternative rock cliché you can ask for, “live life / love life / while I’m alive I only got one chance this time / that is do or die.” There’s not a track on here which doesn’t jump out and you and demand you take notice and that’s why ‘Lower Than Atlantis’ is unquestionably my Album of the Year.
Well, at least until ‘Sonic Highways’…we’ll see.
Lower Than Atlantis’ self-titled fourth album is out next Monday, the 6th of October, on Sony Red / Easy Life. Watch Lower Than Atlantis‘ pseudo video for ‘Emily’ below.