You’ve undoubtedly heard their ear-grabbing single “Tambourine” buzzing from numerous devices since its release a few months ago, even if you weren't exactly sure of the band name. The White's legacy comes directly from the mid-noughties with beloved indie rock purveyors The Maccabees, however, it’s been quite a while since they hung up their gloves back in 2016.
This new self-titled album, focuses on the foursome’s new musical endeavour and we find out what they’ve been brewing up in the interim. The indie pop sound they formerly projected is an obvious and instantly recognisable spawning ground and that shouldn’t be such a surprise given mere days after closing the door on The Maccabees the brothers were playing together on this new project, albeit with the slowest of slow gestations into their current incarnation.
The succinct smash and grab of “Tambourine”, with its instant chanted fervour and new wave embracing guitars must wait until the opener “Modern Life” unspools in a slow-building, soaring, ear-splitting wave of ganged vocals before settling into a contented finish. As you’ll hear it’s a familiar pattern. Mixing the cacophonous arrangements with vocal and guitar melodies. Rasped sawtooth waves and smooth oceans stacked against each other. Where the lyrics hit and melodies land it feels life-affirming, briefly, and the album starts strongly in this vein. There’s a lot of nostalgic hankering for the brothers' childhoods and past experiences together in the lyrics. Blending this celebration of youth, responsibility-free and delivered with the skittery bombast of The Strokes or even that camaraderie bond of Arcade Fire the band wielding their instruments and influences unselfconsciously.
The rasps of colour and hazy half-remembered idyllic life culminates with “Higher Love” embracing a more divine point of view on the nature of the past, loss, and acceptance. This is the most Arcade Fire they get. Full on stopping faster and faster into its denouement following the spiritual light.
After this point, the album noticeably shifts from the reflective peaceful and piano-led “Korembi” to “Worn Out Buildings” with twisting snakes of guitars and piano, turning in on themselves squalling. There’s a more dated sound to the songs.
The album could use some pruning. Despite the relatively brief length of most songs they start retreading sounds and motifs often. “Pipe Dream” is a dispassionate Strokes-lite approximation. “Settled” doesn’t know what it’s doing included here with its whirling organ. “Someone Else’s Dream” is laughable faux sneering punk and is truly unnecessary. “Spinning World” comes over as lethargic and world-weary and then “A Million Things” again spins the punk style-o-meter with mostly pointless results. The fact that the album lifts its head from this point is an achievement in itself. Yes, they do utilise some proto-U2 prowling drums and bass on “Need You Bad” before redeeming themselves on “Dreaming”, essentially the album closer, with its gentle and inquisitive look at life and where we all fall into its cracks and turns. It feels far more cathartic than the shoutier moments and wears its heart on its sleeve.
Such was the love and esteem with which The Maccabees were held by its fans that this quartet's main players will undoubtedly find that undimmed. There’s sufficient melodic ability and noisy bluster in their songwriting, augmented by producer Stephen Street’s smart knack for mixing the poignant with the pop, to engage and draw in indie rock lovers. The overall resilience also feels like 86TVs represents a brand new day rather than solely an echo of their former selves, even if some musical references from the album’s latter half draw from already dry wells.
