First thoughts first. Who or what the fook are "Frengers" when they're at home? Maybe I'm not in possession of a dictionary expansive enough, but I'm a gingerbread soldier if I can work out what that title's all about.
But then, that all important air of mystery and enigma always helps our favourite bands outlast the pack and certainly Sweden's MEW are beginning to sound like dark horses worth having a flutter on in the indie guitar derby.On the basis of this debut album at least.
These hard-touring Scandinavians have already proved their worth over several recent arduous UK tours. They have a nicely warped line in projected visuals and in Jonas Bjerre they also have a vocalist who could teach Thom Yorke a trick or two in the kneed-in-the-groin falsetto stakes.
"Frengers" is the realisation of the otherworldly-but-tenacious guitar pop MEW have been honing. Bjerre supplies that keening, elemental quality in songs like the urgent first single "Am I Wry? No", the yearning "156" and the pretty, but slightly poisonous "She Came Home For Christmas": one of the few festive songs that sounds majestic in any season.
The album sounds big in all areas, but thankfully not too over-egged. It's mostly a basic four-piece set up, though subtle embellishments from strings and keyboards seep/ sweep in at strategic moments. This is particularly effective on songs like "SheSpider", where a subtle programmed ballad suddenly gives way to the kind of molten fury The Wedding Present or even My Bloody Valentine would have once approved of. This songs also demonstrates MEW have a rhythm section with attack to spare and in guitarist Bo Madsen a fret-mangler capable of letting loose when the mood serves.
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It all runs together pretty seamlessly. Certainly "Snow Brigade" stands out with its' funky, growling appeal, as does the slow-burning tension of "Eight Flew Over, One Was Destroyed", but Mew surely keep the finest in reserve for last, with the full eight minutes-plus of "Comforting Sounds" providing a suitably epic coda for a notable debut album. "I don't feel alright, in spite of these comforting sounds you make," intones Bjerre, setting up a narrative full of human frailty and sad reminiscence before the music's tidal wave breaks and carries us away, with trumpet and (I think) theremin adding to the fray.
"Frengers", then, is an impressively modern and well-produced guitar album that remembers not to jettison those all-important human emotions. In Jonas Bjerre, Mew have a charismatic vocalist with a strong line in plaintive reflection, while musically they clearly have far greater chemistry in reserve than Saddam's apparent lack of deadly weapons. In short, they're a cut above most indie guitar chancers plodding around.
Be that as it may, this writer still needs to invest in a better dictionary.
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