Los Campesinos! - Romance Is Boring

With the Cardiff-formed seven-piece having established their own unique brand of indie-pop over the course of their first two albums, such a claim seemed to hint that the group was moving forward into so-far untrodden territory. Although their trademark music-making had succeeded in drawing a cult following, their critics often set their crosshairs firmly upon the brattish nature of their songs. It seemed like a new path would be required if the band were ever going to break out from the niche they had carved for themselves.

Romance Is Boring certainly begins with a radically different approach to the agro explosions of the previous affairs. The album opener is a slow burner, gradually picking up pieces of vivid imagery, the initial vocal entry giving the impression that we’ve just stepped into the midst of an argument: ‘But let’s talk about you for a minute, with the vomit at your gullet, from a half bottle of vodka that we’d stolen from the optic’. Akin to cold-blooded lizards that lie in the sun each morning in order to warm-up, the band use 'In Medias Res' as an opportunity to bask in the innate power and lyricism of Tom and Gareth’s songwriting before unveiling their more traditional in-your-face ethos in the glockenspiel-capped 'There Are Listed Buildings'. As ever, the literary depth to Gareth’s lyrics is stunning, with back-story traced out for us at every turn.

However, something has definitely changed here; a progressive step has been taken from the adolescent angst of Hold On Now, Youngster and the self-piteous We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed. The music now tastes of something more mature, an acquaintance with true tragedy, the cynicism that can pollute experience, and the altogether different heartache that growing older can bring. It really feels like Los Campesinos! are beginning to open up to their listeners in a totally different manner to that of their previous studio outings. At points on the album, such as the centrepiece 'Who Fell Asleep', the outraged stomp disappears leaving behind a mellow, resigned tone that leaves a lasting impression of honesty and vulnerability.

It’s true that as a general rule, the trademark Los Campesinos! sound is still always present, in some shape of form. But now it seems like the septet have reached a point of sonic comfort and self-assurance and feel the need to push themselves to their musical limits, and the result is a grittier sense of fortitude. It can be heard in the chromaticism of 'Plan A' or in the discordance of the title track. Producer John Goodmanson (Death Cab For Cutie, The Blood Brothers, Owl City) presents an essay in production of the highest order, adding depths of colour and texture so-far unheard in Los Campesinos!’s oeuvre, but all without detracting from the visceral delivery we’ve come to expect from the band.

In the end, however, the victory belongs to the band, who have shown once and for all that a dramatic reinvention is not the only way to make a dramatic improvement to your music. By evolving their sound rather than attempting to hammer it into the shape of something it isn’t, Los Campesinos! have produced one of the most emotionally engaging albums of the year so far. It closes with a killer trio of songs, the bipolarity of the suicidal portrait 'The Sea Is A Good Place To Think Of The Future' segueing into the heart-warming histrionics of 'This Is A Flag. There Is No Wind' before the emotional organ-led 'Coda' wistfully brings the listener to their knees with the repeated cry of anguish: ‘I can’t believe I chose the mountains every time you chose the sea’. Sometimes I really love being proved wrong.

Add Comment

You must log in to submit a comment.