Maybe you don't need to hear another three-chord rhumba about conspicuous consumption. Perhaps you're left lacking by the prospect of hearing 50-year-old men plugging in their amplifiers to compare affairs of the heart to assembling an Ikea Robin media shelf. Or maybe you already own the Buzzcocks' Singles Going Steady and don't think there's any point seeing what the minds behind evergreen gems like "What Do I Get?" or "Everybody's Happy Nowadays" are capable of in the 21st century. It's a shame, then, that you won't hear how good they sound on Flat-Pack Philosophy.
Yes, the Buzzcocks are doing what they've always done-- writing raucous pop songs-- but there's something to be said for honing and plying one's craft. If anyone's earned the right to beat this dead horse into sniffing glue, it's the firm of Shelley & Diggle, and they beat it like nobody's business. Flat-Pack Philosophy, the group's seventh full-length, squeezes 14 tunes into just 36 minutes, many of which could give even some Steady moments a run for the filthy lucre. Hyperbole, sure, but it's hard to argue when the breathless chorus of "Wish I Never Loved You" is rattling between your ears long after the song is finished. That track, emblematic of Pete Shelley's undying hard-luck romanticism, is followed by Steve Diggle's shining moment on this album, "Sell You Everything". Even if the track's message falls a bit flat (see one song title), the music-- all crashing drums and revved-up guitar-- gives it the anthemic punch it requires.
The album peaks early with the title track (the one about Ikea) and the aforementioned one-two punch. There's still plenty to enjoy on the back end, though. In fact, the only truly sour track is "Sound of a Gun", Diggle's attempt to add some gruff toughness to the Buzzcocks' zippy veneer; the group is at its best these days when melding a youthful exuberance with time-worn maturity. A potentially dreadful track like "Credit"-- another "woe is the financial state of the world" polemic, complete with voices sampled from an automated supermarket checkout kiosk and oh-so-topical complaints about cell phones and junk mail-- is saved by Shelley's wistful chorus ("Credit/ In love with the never never/ Wish I could get something I really need"). While the more socially aware songs come off somewhat out of touch (cell phones? really?), life experience can only help when you're writing pop songs about love.
Musically, the breezy gait of "I Don't Exist" peacefully co-exists with the more emphatic rock tones of "Soul Survivor", and the strength of the music behind these tracks rescues them from any glaring lyrical skidmarks. Conversely, close listens to otherwise enjoyable tunes like "Between Heaven & Hell" and "God, What Have I Done" might kill one's buzz. Still, most rough patches are smoothed over by the album's overall consistency. Perhaps the notion of a rock band-- let alone a punk rock band-- punching the very same clock they spit at 30 years ago seems distasteful. I say, if someone's good at what they do, and they enjoy what they're doing, punch away.
