After two releases that most fans would describe as "totally pussy" and the departure of beloved drummer Stuart Cable, the Stereophonics needed a change. Their solution? Pump up frontman Kelly Jones' vocals, hire Argentinean drummer Javier Weyler, cut the sentimental shit, and get back to the beer-stained, pool-cue-wavin', leather-studded cock-rock roots of the late-90s 'Phonics album Britain drooled over.
As the album title points out, Jones' lyrics deal with a motley cast of characters, all of which grounded in the basest barroom debauchery. The title character of opener "Superman" is drunk, plays poker, and wants to ditch Lois Lane for a "teenage blonde." Jones vents some sibling animosity on "Brother" by, well, beating up his brother. "Girl" is about fucking a girl. The whole bad boy bit gets pretty boring pretty fast, with Jones appearing especially ridiculous on "Doorman", a four-minute "fuck you" to some security guard he brawled with during a 2004 Seattle show: "You look like a monkey scowling at me/ Well suck my banana, suck it with cream".
The biggest joke of the album, though, is the group's shameless appeal to today's new wave hipsters. Single "Dakota" is the big culprit here, with its high-school romanticism and sugary synth workings. Jones pines for summer nights and adolescent innocence until his emotions boil over into the not-so-immortal line: "You made me feel like the one." There they mimic New Order; elsewhere, the basslines of "Superman" and "Deadhead" rip off the Cure's "A Forest", while "Lolita" is the Stereophonics' ill-advised, half-assed stab at shoegazer.
This unctuous new wave dabbling is the only departure from the album's otherwise humdrum Stereophonics sound. Jones still croaks out songs with that wretched voice of his, an amalgam of nicotine, alcohol and AOR. The guitars still churn out feeble riffs more appropriate for a Hot Wheels commercial than a grown-up's rock album, and even when they're on to something it feels like they're only fumbling with a good idea. It's Britain's cancerous version of Creed, Guns N' Roses, and Stone Temple Pilots rolled into one, though unfortunately lacking those bands' self-destructive tendencies.
