Saturday 17 July 2010

Amoriste - Under the Hours of the Satellite Towers EP


At sixth form college, I had a rather quirky friend who said that his favourite band of all time was Supergrass. Supergrass? I mean, come on. Nobody hates Supergrass (it would be a very misanthropic soul that would) but, out of all the bands in the world, the best that ever emerged through the flow and jetsam of rock history... Supergrass? Are you sure?

Amoriste are hard to hate, and I wouldn't even try. But it is unlikely that they will ever be your favourite band. This is not an judgement of their ability as musicians, as a band or as people. It is simply to say that Amoriste are not looking to lead a vainglorious, all-conquering rawk n rowl enterprise. Amoriste are down-to-earth songwriters, not letting delusions of grandeur muddle their inherent gift and feel for melody.


The overall feel of the songs is one of sunshine -dappled lightness and brevity. 'Saturday am' celebrates notes not the rampant exaltation of saturday night, but instead the gentle promise of a saturday morning, with the prospect of sneaky half-pints, the mowing of grass and 'suburban pride for all to see.' The song sets a tone for the whole EP, cheerful, rooted in suburbia. Most bands refer to East London, Soho, Williamsburg, New York etc in their songs, often with an accompanying air of glamorous, cosmopolitan ennui. In 'City Lights', Tolan suggests to his beloved that they sail down to that fulcrum of nightlife, glamour and debauchary... Wivenhoe? (For those not in Essex, Wivenhoe is known locally as being a cross between Paris and Rio de Janiero, on account of its broad boulevards and pulsating nightlife. Yes. No. I'm lying.)

The feel pervades the album. Amoriste's clear choruses and gently celebratory melodies work to manage a marriage between the anthemic and the intimate. While Amoriste clearly aim to write memorable, sing-along choruses (and sometimes unequivocally succeed), an air of intimacy prevails. While much of rock and indie music is good at describing much of the more big emotions in life, such as love, hate, rage (and it's more bookish brother, angst), lust, despair etc, it often fails in articulating simple pleasures, like the cup of tea on a rainy day, or the first holding of hands. Amoriste attempt to plug this gap, with the occasional caustic tone ('the curtain comes down on the day/white collar criminals come out to play') never really affecting the pervasive relaxed, sensitive optimism of the songs.

The music itself (yes, I suppose I had to come to round to it eventually) is rooted in the slightly tweedy indie-rock of Athlete, Belle and Sebestian, and other such assorted cardigan-wearers. The music is clear, uncluttered, simple exercises in the verse/chorus/middle eight structure. Though the smart money will be on those songs with the easiest of choruses ('Saturday AM', 'City Lights'), 'Vagablondes' relies on some really interesting instrumentation, the guitar at the start strangely reminiscent of Peter Buck's jangle on REM albums circa Murmur or Reckoning, and a glacial, post-punk middle section. The chimes at the start are even rather Brian Eno-like. This is not to say that this represents some Ornette Coleman citing experimentation, but it makes it stand apart from the other songs on the album, and could possibly point to future developments in the band's music in the future.

Refreshingly unpretentious, easy going, its intimate aura covering up its lack of ambition, Under the Hours of Satellite Towers is pleasant company. Not exactly songs that will save your life, but at at least as good as a really good cup of tea or a sneaky half.

Amoriste - Under the Hours of Satellite Towers is out 15th July on itunes.
http://www.myspace.com/amoriste

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