Leaders of the Free World Review
Melancholy Mancunians Elbow took eleven years to produce their first album, but seem now to have got the production period down to a steady, and altogether more reasonable, two. Their third full-length album, Leaders of the Free World (September 2005, V2 records), is tipped by many to be their break into the big time. Unless my opinion changes rapidly over a few more listens, however, this is by far the least exciting album they’ve released.
Their first two albums, Asleep in the Back and Cast of Thousands saw them widely labelled as Radiohead replicas, showcasing a beautiful array of emotionally-charged songs capturing life and love as morosely observed by lead singer Guy Garvey.
From Asleep in the Back, their debut, seven-minute lament Newborn reflects on love and mortality, building from a lone voice at its inception to an anthemic, frenzied crescendo which is obliterated in a second by a tiny beep: a contender for best-ended song ever. Powder Blue, which is apparently based on two drug addicts Garvey saw in a bar one evening, is a discordant tale of discordant passion, starkly portraying a mutual dependence in a World which has rejected them. Another of Elbow’s unexpected endings, the track ends with the despondent wails of muted saxophones terminated suddenly by the smashing of a pane of glass.
Their second album, Cast of Thousands, is little happier, though perhaps even more musically diverse than their first offering. Involving the band themselves, a gospel choir, a dog and a Glastonbury crowd (the “Cast of Thousands” in the title) and probably some I’ve forgotten, it comprises an entirely original array of depressing tunes. Fugitive Motel grittily describes the cheap hotels far from lovers whilst on tour (”the curtains stay closed, everyone knows, you hear through the walls in this place/cigarette holes for every lost soul to give up the ghost in this place”…”‘I’m tired,’ I said/’You always look tired,’ she said/’I'm admired,’ I said/’You always look tired,’ she said”). And its climax of unhappiness, a lullaby to commit suicide to, Switching Off seems to recount the final thoughts of a euthanasee to gentle heartbeat of a metronome.
This third album, however, deviates markedly from this benchmark. After having his break-up spattered all over the tabloids, one might expect this to be Garvey’s most depressive album yet, but not so.
The title track is a blatant dig at the Bush administration (containing such lyrics as “the leaders of the free World are just little boys throwing stones”, and a chorus containing the words “passing the gun from father to feckless son”). Even Garvey’s witty lyrics and the technically excellent presentation do not detract from the fact that this is an irritatingly catchy, upbeat presentation of a tired message.
The main criticism to be levelled at this album is probably just that it’s dull: no more tracks to reduce the listener to tears, just poetry about Mancunian urban planning with an unsettlingly minor-key-free musical backing. Forget Myself’s chorus is so happy that its descending bell scales make it sound almost like an indie bid for Christmas number one.
Coldplay were, in my opinion, beautifully summed up by the phrase “supermarket rock” - music which had been stripped of its character and watered down into a bland, universally-appealing noise. It is a dangerously short degeneration from this emotionally diluted album to something universally palatable with no message whatsoever.
This review is perhaps unfairly negative in what from other bands could well be tipped as a good record. Elbow, however, would do better to resurrect their varied morose, morbid muse from previous albums.