bar italia is one of London’s most polarizing bands. From the dark, lo-fi sounds of Quarrel and Bedhead, to the grungy, post-punk tapestries of Tracey Denim and The Twits, the band’s ever-changing experimental rock songs has an indescribable allure… for some. Still, others question whether bar italia was ever really creating anything special at all, or if they were just skating by on droning guitars and an undercurrent of coolness. Unsure of exactly how to describe the band’s cryptic discography, many critics took to using vague words like “mysterious.”
It didn’t take long for bar italia to grow tired of that label and, in what feels like an attempt to break out of that box, they’ve pushed their habits of sonic reinvention to the next level on Some Life It Hot, trading a moody fusion of alternative sounds for clumsy indie-rock ideas. Titled after the 1959, Marilyn Monroe-starring crime comedy of the same name, the band tries leaning into exhausted guitar tropes and lyrical storytelling. Like the film, the album also brims with tales of jaded starlets, hapless lovers, and opportunistic gossips. Take the raucous opener “Fundraiser,” where Nina Cristante slips into the role of a pompous actress, while Sam Fenton plays a lovestruck fan masquerading as a lackadaisical lover. It’s one of the record’s most cohesive narratives, though the instrumentals behind it are surprisingly forgettable. It’s a pattern on this record, flaws that return on songs like “I Make My Own Dust,” “omni shambles,” and “Eyepatch.”
The album’s lack of focus persists on “Marble Arch.” Upon first listen, it has a playful musical swagger: part-swing, part-wistful rock, and part-noir. Yet the tone crumbles under fumbling riffs, half-hearted piano lines, and oddly heavy lyrics about a person’s innermost thoughts. It’s as if the band tried to reflect Some Like It Hot’s filmic humor in their instrumentals, hoping that “Marble Arch” could be this great, satirical look at the concept of overthinking, but the botched guitars are distracting, prohibiting the message from getting across convincingly or fully. The band regains some footing on “Cowbella,” a proper noisy anthem with just enough sludge to match. The track drips with sarcasm, as the trio take turns sharing gossip about an unknown female protagonist. The quality sound goes even further on “rooster,” as the gang explores the concept of obsession and Cristante’s deadpan delivery truly sells the chaos: “I’m shaking hands with all the thoughts I killed last week / They’re so sticky they’re glued to my head / I’m shaking hands cos I know there’s no end to this / I have a headache that I can taste.” Driving bass and tangled guitars build up tension until the song bursts open in a haze of feedback.
The wistful “bad reputation” sports lush, spidery riffs swirling around marching drums while Fenton and Cristante murmur along. It’s a hypnotic feel that, coupled with lyrical mania, brings back some of that familiar bar italia je ne sais quoi, thanks to that unexpected waltz flow, which makes this strange, sultry track one of the best on the record. bar italia’s jaded vocal set often sounds out of place when it’s paired with more normal rhythms, but it’s right at home in the mystical realm of “bad reputation” and its sauntering cadences. “the lady vanishes” haunts, and “Lioness” is fairly easy-going and narcotic, as measured drums set a pace and the trio’s vocals ring through an echo chamber of swirling guitars. “Plastered” puts the band’s twee side front and center, and the combination of dream pop and off-kilter rock works.
But on Some Like It Hot, bar italia is calling a bad audible. They’re trying to carve out a more marketable sound for themselves rather than build on the intrigue of The Twits, and the shoe just doesn’t fit. Sure, the trio may be succeeding in having the term “mysterious” pulled away from them, but certainly not for the better. Some of these songs do work, but most of the music is more amateur than charming. It’s a heavy-handed transition that flattens what once made bar italia relatively unique: broken, moody vocals, driving riffs, and blurred soundscapes colliding to create entrancing, puzzling songs that traffic in unpredictable subgenres. I’m all for a band trying to make a statement about themselves, but in trying to shed the labels that have tailed them for years, bar italia have lost their spark. [Matador]
