Friday, 18 January 2008

SPOON: Don't Make Me A Target

More delvin' into Belbin - see what I did there? (See me - Ed.) - with Spoon, who along with Of Montreal, the National and Momus are the most reliable of promo/CD senders; every so often another of their albums reaches me, and with the notable and predictable exception of Momus, every one of them gets neatly filed away and scarcely listened to, though I never deem them atrocious enough to warrant binning (really, readers, take it from me: there are brighter and better things to do with one's life than struggle into town with a pile of promos to get a fiver back for the lot of them from MVE). Spoon are clearly creative and inventive and yet I can't find a convenient place in my world for them, nor have I sufficient will to create a new place for them, but neither can I let them go and I will need to investigate further.

In the meantime, "Don't Make Me A Target" comes from last year's highly rated Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and with its sleeve-bearing heart of protest - "nuclear dicks with dialect drawls" - is a most heartening presumed anti-Bush tirade which uses its bitemporal procession ingeniously; staccato guitars in the "Cold As Ice"/"No One Knows" fashion meets up with Britt Daniel's prematurely weary but admirably vituperative half-tempo vocal ("He smells like the inside of closets upstairs/The kind where nobody goes"). As his anxiety and gradual ire intensify with the repeated title the music steps up a semi-subtle gear, the piano becoming more prominent and a noise guitar eventually battering its way into the right channel, mixed up with AMM-style bandwidth radio interference. This eventually subsides and we are left with a medium-sized musical question mark. Obviously I need to know more. Now where did I put that box?