The record starts with a kick drum, before a looped bass enters, slowly lulling the listener into serenity before BANG! Guitars explode all across the microphone, electrical debris falling beneath the weight of towering riffs. Opening number “Loungeside” exposes a rock band as they mean to go on: without mercy, without manners, without restraint. Some of the guitar arpeggios resurrect the spirits of shoegazers Ride for a hurrah stuffed with reverb-oriented gusto.
The Fierce and the Dead have traditionally pivoted between stoner and psychedelic hooks, suffused with sultry grooves undulating beneath the murky words. “The 1234” maintains the momentum, battering drums angrily pulverising across the speakers, recalling Tony McCarroll’s efforts on Definitely Maybe. Punk energy infuses Regional Theatre, sealing it like a form of glue. Drilled grooves pad out the vocal interpolations on this latest effort, offering something resembling the frisson of a live gig.
“Somehow”, an indie-coated jazz number, conflates the irrational with the inspirational, a fable in which 21st-century trivialities wade in the waters of mythology. “The promised land was far away,” the singer announces, keen to locate a feeling that matches that of religious sustenance. “Hey Nightmare” is a turbo-charged monster, led by icy-sharp vocals. Guitarists Matt Stevens and Steve Cleaton litter the sonic backdrop with chiming chords, curating a more melodic undercurrent to the project as a whole. Indeed, the whole record is a hodgepodge of inventive ideas.
“Thrash” darts with the precision of a bass in the mould of Adam Clayton (U2), opening to a tale of youthful abandon in a world governed by enemies and ennui. “We dance the dance, and try not to blink,” the band shouts out, prophesying an alternative reality in which the listener and orator reach certain doom. Lifted by a burbling synthesiser hook, the ballad belts and darts in a manner that’s edgy, scratchy and pleasantly unsettling. Continuing the U2 comparison, the guitars that close out the tune sound like a marriage between the Edge on The Joshua Tree and the man one decade later performing Pop.
It’s difficult on this listen to tell whether Stevens plays the brusque riff throughout “Hypernormalisation” or Cleaton, yet the weaving packs a punch. Rock ‘n’ roll traditionally falls on the shoulders of two six-stringers: Richards and Taylor, Davies and Davies, Page and Beck. Co-frontmen Kev Feazey and Tom Hunt are presented with much of the heavy lifting, though the barrelling hooks personify the edginess within the words and intention.
A marriage of riff and sentiment aids the album’s precariously pulsating nature. Rock, in the right hands, has lots to say, and the Fierce and the Dead have much to add to the genre. Confidently, the thud-thump from the percussion in “Signal Bleed” has a soothing, hypnotic quality that slows down the furious pace Regional Theatre has favoured for something more cerebral. Putting it crudely, the gear has switched from Nick Lowe to Nick Drake.
“Somehow” and “Superbia” return to more anxiety-laden agit-pop, piercing the bare instrumentation with determination, grit, and carnivorous aplomb. What begins as a love letter to punk and post-punk becomes its own genre entirely: The Fierce and the Dead. By completing the run-through of the marks, this record dances to a distinct beat, charred riffs next to elastic drum parts.
“Shake Hands & Exit ” has the greatest possibility of gleaming mainstream success, the type of pub singalong that frequents student nights around the United Kingdom and United States. The two voices blend beautifully, as do the swampy guitar parts, the ensemble moving like a committed chessboard determined to topple over the enemy. Glorious stuff all around.