It’s becoming a refrain around these parts, but the fact Manchester-based singer/ songwriter VINNY PECULIAR still hasn’t impinged on the wider consciousness seems increasingly ridiculous. In the past few years, he’s crafted an idiosyncratically-brilliant body of work across four studio albums and a greatest-hits-that-never-were compilation called ‘Whatever Happened To Vinny Peculiar?’ which is surely the finest collection of British pop songs never to have been heard on the radio.
Now backed by a band befitting his talents (including ex-Smiths Mike Joyce and Craig Gannon), Vinny has made the record we all knew he was capable of with the Reggie Perrin-bothering ‘The Fall And Rise Of Vinny Peculiar’. Produced with clarity by Joe Fossard in Blackburn after previous sessions in Sweden and Rochdale fell through, the enforced hiatus caused by the change of studios and the departure of former bassist (and third ex-Smith) Andy Rourke has worked creatively in the new band’s favour as ‘The Fall And Rise…’ is a neatly-observed and powerfully-executed collection of songs crammed full of magic and melancholy.
The album opens strongly with arguably its’ most immediate moment thanks to the tremendous ‘Man About The House’: a great song of domestic disharmony written from a woman’s point of view, propelled along beautifully by Mike Joyce’s terrific drumming, riffs that come full circle and great Jarvis Cocker-style lyrical observations (“In the time it takes him to think, he could have painted the fence”) which – in a fairer world – would be stencilling itself all over the charts.
It’s not the only time the band succumb to the lure of great pop, either. The deceptively jaunty and partially autobiographical ‘Song To Bring Back A Girl’ (“I joined the God squad, but not for too long/ converted my cause to the popular song”) is catchy, skiffly indie with proud, chiming chords and a dramatic sunburst of a chorus, while the fine-tuned quintessentially English ‘The Greedy Scorpios’ is nudge-nudge, wink-wink pop at its’ best with fanfare trumpets on and hints of everyone from Pulp to Ray Davies. Superficially, the edgy ‘My Place’ could also pass for single material, were its’ obsessive lyrical content (“Like you did for all the other men/ just give me what you give to them”) not so bitter, desperate and gripping.
Of course, this is the first time Vinny has entered the studio with a committed, full-time band and their contributions are telling throughout the course of the album. I never doubted Mike Joyce would be anything less than his usual consummate self anyway, but both keyboard player Ben Knott and guitarist/ bassist Craig Gannon are little short of a revelation. Having heard Gannon play with the likes of Blue Orchids and Adult Net, I’d always known he was talented, but not only does he add terrific guitar lines all over the shop, but he also works up the brass arrangements on tunes like ‘The Greedy Scorpios’ and the epic, six-minute ‘Revolt Into Style’: Vinny’s address on the chronic state of the artifice-heavy, celeb-obsessed pop sewer most of us wade helplessly through these days.
|
They all pull it together on arguably this writer’s favourite track ‘Sorry God’: Vinny’s open letter of rebellion to the Man Upstairs, and this time it’s not restricted to The Big Man simply nicking Vinny’s bird neither. Couched in ringing guitars, it’s a diatribe Luke Haines would be proud of (“the ways you ignore the plight of the poor/ the sadness and the madness and the one-sided door/ that leads to salvation and sanctuary, it’s all so wasted on me”) and accelerates to one of Vinny’s best choruses yet. Like I say, it’s perhaps your correspondent’s favourite tune, though it’s given a run for its’ money by the great ‘Playing On The Pier’: a snapshot of an ennui-stricken ‘50s seaside Britain which might have disappeared physically, but remains etched on our consciousness. The poignant lyrics (spoken by Vinny) were supplied by VP’s recently-deceased Uncle Jim and if he wrote more along these lines he should certainly be read on a wider scale.
For all the band’s input, though, two of the most memorable songs here feature an unadorned Vinny with merely acoustic guitar for company. Of these, ‘A Man Afraid’ – basically a litany of things VP (and most of us) is scared of on a day-to-day basis – is naked and vulnerable and one of the most affecting things he’s ever written, while the wistful and wryly humorous ‘London Train’ is a neat and gentle vignette to finish on with our hero admitting “I always seem to fall asleep somewhere before we get to Milton Keynes”: something that’s happened to this writer on more than one occasion too.
Of course, Vinny’s past reputation seems to have pegged him as something of an idiosyncratic genius, but not only is ‘The Fall And Rise…’ his best album yet, but it’s also one with plenty for fans of great English pop to get their teeth into. Vinny himself addresses the issue of being passed over on the frustrated ‘Living In The Past’ when he declares “destiny won’t speak to me anymore.” Well, if destiny continues to blank him, this writer for one will be waiting for it behind the bike sheds with an especially heavy cricket bat.
|
