Chairlift – 'Does You Inspire You' review
Chairlift are probably the most hummed band in the UK right now, thanks to the new iPod TV ad that features thirty seconds of their song Bruises to accompany the pretty Apple colours. But to anaesthetised viewers they’re also nothing more than the “handstands for you” group – and their debut LP suggests they harbour ambitions higher than that.
For while Bruises is a lovely choice for an advert – catchy, bright and familiar (maybe a little too familiar for admirers of The Cure’s Close To You) – Does You Inspire You is in no way an album of ditties. In fact, with the exception of Bruises and the quirkily charming Evident Utensil, the record is a relatively slow, atmospheric affair.
It begins with the coldly seductive Garbage, the best song you’ll hear about landfill all year, with singer Caroline Polachek issuing stark warnings with Blondie-like detachment about “your condoms and your VCRs” being left to decay. This, and then Planet Health, offers sharp contrast to the bouncy, singalong singles: an attention to detail suggests that there’s more here than pretty washes of treated guitar and bedroom electro beats.
Earwig Town and Territory make similarly bold impacts, their melodies, ethereal vocals and stately, polished production simultaneously evoking Take My Breath Away-style 80s power balladry and film noir soundtrack. Then just when it’s becoming predictable, Chairlift swap synths for twanging guitars for Don’t Give A Damn, the kind of melancholy country duet that Johnny Cash did so well on his final LPs. Performed with the battered poise you’d expect from musicians three times their age, it’s not just a great song but a well-placed breather from the glossy production.
A more experienced band may have wrapped things up here – Don’t Give A Damn is as apt a closer as Radiohead’s Motion Picture Soundtrack or Bjork’s All Is Full Of Love, and would’ve capped the album impressively. However, youthful zeal wins over, and the two final tracks slightly spoil the sense of nonchalance generated by the first nine. An aimless instrumental melds into a waffly number with far less substance than that to which it aspires, and the result is a frustrating conclusion for its eagerness to impress – a characteristic that is so refreshingly absent from the rest of the record.
However, the rather unsatisfying end is the first serious clunk on an otherwise remarkably assured debut, and if Chairlift can produce a follow-up that walks the line between 80s kitsch and sombre electropop as magically as this does, then their status as just another iPod advert band may be as temporary as they hope.
8/10
