I am, if nothing, a lover of pop music. Not the kind littering Top 40 charts, propped up by overproduction and retreaded hooks, but the ebullient, cymbal-crashing ruckus of racing guitars and soaring choruses. This is not easy music to find because it doesn’t ascribe to an indie-cool aesthetic. The bands who properly pull off pop have to love it, with a power that shimmers from speakers.
Los Campesinos!, a band from Wales without any Welsh members, is one of those bands. Through seven years and five albums, the sextet (who all go by the last name Campesinos! – even their names are said with energy) has excelled in sparkling melodies countered by the dour and sports-fan lyrics of Gareth (Paisley) Campesinos!, a man who loves his sadness and his soccer. With a wry wit, Gareth turns any eclectic stomp into a funeral dirge, oxymoron songs as I like to call them. But with NO BLUES, LC! finds some happy to accompany the lively music, even as certain tracks dwell on scepter of death. With Los Campesinos!, it’s never a full-on fiesta.
Musically, LC! has never sounded better. The songs are confident, featuring bright flashes of horns and tracks of alternating pace. And while the band packs too much in at times, it doesn’t degrade the overall. The opening “For Flotsom” serves a fine primer – a steady beat runs underneath while a bevy of choruses join Gareth’s poised prose. The choruses explode in cymbals before falling into sing-alongs, as Gareth exclaims “She says “if you’re unhappy, then you gotta find the cure”/Well I prescribe me one more beer, beyond that I am unsure.”
“I was the first match struck at the first cremation, you are my shallow grave,” opens “What Death Leaves Behind,” a song you shouldn’t be dancing to, but you do (this happens later with “Cemetery Gates”). “A Portrait Of The Trequartista As A Young Man” (quite the title) drifts from the dance floor, as the music swoons back and forth, interspersed with drums and piano. A voice collage envelops the song’s end for a three-minute song that sounds twice as long, for all the right reasons.
“Avocado, Baby” is the album’s high point, a track of energetic drumming, a host of screaming cheerleaders (reminiscent of The Go! Team – exclamation point bands have to stick together), and Gareth sounding like James Murphy when he yelps “A heart of stone/ Rind so tough it’s crazy/ That’s why they call me the avocado, baby.” How can you not love it as much as they do?
NO BLUES has Los Campesinos! at its most mature, penning youthful songs with a sarcastic bent – akin to cartoons children enjoy with risque dialogue only adults understand. It’s a pop album with limitless potential, and could propel LC! to a new, extended audience.
