It's been a year since UK quartet Working for a Nuclear Free City issued their self-titled debut. It could've just as easily been a decade-- or a couple of days. That 2006 album's boozily psychedelic dance-rock showed an affinity for such previous Manchester groups as the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays, with block-rockin' beats that might've belonged to the Chemical Brothers, plus Teutonic grooves that aligned the band with the motorik-minded likes of Caribou, Fujiya & Miyagi, and 120 Days. And it wasn't "nu rave."
Even as electronic acts keep appropriating rock tropes, and guitar bands go on revisiting the post-punk disco, WfaNFC's debut still sounds distinctive. There's an anthemic grandeur unknown to your average Justice- or !!!-wannabes. Also setting WfaNFC apart is their pastoral side, which on this year's Rocket EP brings to mind the woolly, interstellar indie-with-beats of the Beta Band. WfaNFC's debut and half of their EP come together with a mixed bag of previously unreleased tracks on double album Businessmen & Ghosts, their first American release.
What made Working for a Nuclear Free City and the Rocket EP so enticing makes Businessmen & Ghosts a worthwhile acquisition, too. The band's best bass-driven dancefloor bangers and stately, textured landscapes are all here, and there are a couple of fresh surprises, too. At nearly one hour and 45 minutes, WfaNFC's latest release is their closest to comprehensive. This isn't an ideal introduction-- it's a bit overwhelming all at once, and the track order has been unnecessarily, incoherently reshuffled-- but at least it's not import price.
Though a few extra bucks wouldn't have been too much to pay to have checked out WfaNFC in time for your last New Year's party. When these dudes lean on their rhythm section, their feet don't stray far from their effects pedals. "Troubled Son" and "Dead Fingers Talking" are as focused on Gary McLure's rumbling guitar distortion and Phil Kay's sci-fi electronic pulses as they are on Ed Hulme's hip-locked bass and softly deadpanned vocals or Jon Kay's drumming (McLure and Kay co-founded the group). New tracks like "Donkey" and "Eighty Eight" follow suit, while "All American Taste" adds echoey strums to another groove-heavy burst of bleating shoegazer guitar noise.
When they're not strobe-lighting the dancefloor, WfaNFC weave woozy atmospheres for an intoxicated ride home bathed in subway fluorescent or headlight halogen. "Rocket", from the eponymous EP, counts down (and builds up) to an unheard ignition with campfire strums, lilting lead-guitar plucks, refracting keyboards, chugging bass, and Air-y synths. From the debut full-length, "Over" templates this approach with bleary harmonicas and a cosmic groove. Tracks like "The Tree" or "Quiet Place" carve a nostalgic ache out of cracked indie-pop jangle, while "The Tape" sets handclaps and spoken-word vocals atop glistening guitar arpeggios. New song "Asleep at the Wheel" is WfaNFC at their most surging, with the Edge-like guitar repetitions holding up a sustained plateau. (If you downloaded the album, this track is probably mislabeled.)
WfaNFC had displayed plenty of range prior to Businessmen & Ghosts, though they still haven't broken much new ground. Their most startling turn here is the previously unreleased "Sarah Dreams of Summer", which opts for maracas, handclaps, and peppy guitars in a song that's halfway between Britpop and Sarah Records, as melodic as it is deceptively melancholic. "When I look at her/ it feels like I've never been born," comes a Revolver allusion wrapped in Beach Boys harmonies.
Sure, a few of the latest tunes-- "Apron Strings", say, or fleet-fingered "Nancy Adam Susan (Shatter)"-- tend to drift. As a whole, though, Businessmen & Ghosts is a long-overdue U.S. document of a band that might just be getting really interesting. And no, they don't much care either way about nukes.
