That wonderful louche coolness that epitomised the last Terry album is still here in droves on their fourth longplayer, but you have the feeling that there is a little anger and frustration in the mix.
I had to check the stylus when opener “Miracles” assaulted me, its tinny drums and queasy sax flicking the oblique lyrics around like a dog with a toy. The deadpan boy-girl vocals are a delight and there is just something irresistible about the Australian accent. The songs seem simple with a utilitarian charm, but the off-kilter horns attempt to add gravitas and there are unexpected instrumental eruptions that change things up, batting at the clouds over churning, cyclical riffs.
The album is only half an hour long, but they pack plenty for the journey, mixing speaker-blown distortion with Swell Maps vibes that speak of dusty recording rooms and thrift shop instruments. “Take the taser, take the land”, they yell on “Centuries”, and although there is a sense of the abstract in some of the vocal stylings, you understand to whom these comments are addressed and there is something about the sung-spoken vocals that manage to tell a story between the poetry’s lines.
There is the odd reminder of the kind of shambling ’80s bands the UK produced, but the sound is still timeless with the guitar wearing a different hat for each track, even hinting at country on the woozy “Gronks”. One thing’s for sure though; it sounds like a lot of fun was had laying these tracks down, and although some of the messages are strong, they are couched in off-the-cuff irresistible songwriting, the vocal melody for “Golden Head” being particularly adorable.
These are nice brief songs, with lovely laid-back boy-girl vocalising, appearances from recorders and cheap organs, and tasty bass underpinning everything. Call Me Terry feels like a slight change of attitude but still contains that unique Terry charm. Long may they continue.
