Pete And The Pirates – 'Little Death' review
In French, a “little death” (“petit mort”) is slang for an orgasm, something which you’d assume Pete & The Pirates knew when they were naming their debut album. However, the music here suggests otherwise: across its brief running time, Little Death is about as orgasmic as a trip to the shop for a pint of milk and ten fags. What’s more, as the album unfolds, it becomes apparent that the inappropriate title is not the only thing that doesn’t fit its own skin. Subtly nuanced lyrics about dysfunctional relationships (She Doesn’t Belong, Knots) and overcoming depression (Dry Wing) are delivered either distractedly or with an audible grin, while joyful, celebratory moments are presented in modest, apologetic falsetto.
Occasionally, everything does mesh, and the results are a joy. Mr Understanding’s spiky guitar line chimes perfectly with the story’s sarcastic bitterness and is something The Buzzcocks or Supergrass should envy. Just as impressive is the melancholic and rather romantic Humming – a worthy equal to the sombre, observational love songs that Damon Albarn excelled at back in the day.
But these moments of hope are not frequent enough to carry the rest of the album, which all too often sounds like a bored band going through the motions, loveless, flat and self-involved. If this is Pete & The Pirates’ idea of an orgasm, pity the groupies.
5/10
