The pop vernacular has always stretched to accommodate loads of dumb misnomers and meaningless subdivisions. Blame toothy marketers waving one-sheets or all that clunky/obsolete record store signage, but the tension between dynamic, varied artists and their one-dimensional nametags has rendered even the most basic genre classifications meaningless. "Punk" and "rock" surrendered most of their borders years ago; now watch as their respective subspecialties are bastardized into comparable uselessness: Check, especially, the "garage-rock" revival of yesteryear, and the piles of contemporary bands that were mercilessly pummeled into the archetype, without ever actually embracing any of the genre's gnarled, boxy traditions.
Tangiers, Toronto's snappy, t-shirted response to The Strokes (and little brother band to The Deadly Snakes), were instantaneously filed as revivalists (see: outfits, hair), and subsequently forced to prepare for the dismissal that almost always follows a sudden, unchecked press explosion. Still, it all seemed sort of stupidly unfair: Despite having been preemptively lumped in with a whole mess of nu-garage outfits, Tangiers were always a party band, more easily likened to Richard Hell & The Voidoids than The Troggs or Paul Revere.
Now, following up their excellent 2003 debut, Hot New Spirits, Tangiers are dealing with more than just being misunderstood by overeager CD-sorters: Guitarist Yuri Didrichsons and drummer Marco Moniz bailed last year, cracking the original lineup and leaving remaining members (singer/guitarist Josh Reichmann and singer/bassist James Sayce) to reassemble Tangiers. Recruiting former Guided by Voices drummer Jon McCann and keyboardist Shelton Deverell, Sayce and Reichmann shouldered the songwriting duties and plowed ahead.
The resulting record, Never Bring You Pleasure, is a squirrely, bouncing homage to the Rolling Stones, with stacks of pert guitar riffs and plenty of lusty vocals. Like a more convincing Hot Hot Heat, Tangiers play sticky rock music that demands some kind of leg-kicking; Never Bring You Pleasure is a raucous, jerky combination of punk guitars and brash disco flourishes, a majestically danceable update on staid rock traditions.
"I Don't Love You", with its deadpan verses and howled choruses is a hook-heavy, VU-indebted bit of bratty swagger, easily capable of tackling the college charts (or snatching some bored Franz Ferdinand fans); opener "Love Rackets" is all blips and strums, with Reichmann and Sayce trading off vocal duties over McCann's frenzied stomps. Never Bring You Pleasure is a surprisingly cohesive album (Reichmann and Sayce only penned one song together, mostly writing these tracks independently), a loving, unexpected reinvention that still manages to cash-in on all that misdirected hype.
