2002's Mclusky Do Dallas was the kind of record that makes musicians never want to make music again. Mclusky were louder, ruder and tighter, and they took more drugs. I imagine there are bands out there who've been trying for nearly two years to build themselves back up after Mclusky Do Dallas tarnished their egos by calling them names and wiping its muddy feet on their sofas. "To Hell with Good Intentions" stung ("My band is better than your band/ We've got more songs than a song convention"), but "Collagen Rock" was just plain uncalled for ("It's easy to say now their trainers seemed fine/ And their hair was a fucking delight/ But one of those bands got paid, I heard/ One of those bands got fake tits").
Yet while Andy Falkous' acidic repartees were enough to take the confidence out of any group trying to make a name for themselves, scores of fans found perverse pleasure in the record's bloody tussle. In light of that album's success, Mclusky's third long-player, The Difference Between Me and You Is That I'm not on Fire, is difficult to talk about without alluding to Do Dallas' monster-truck riffage and spaz-out lyrical missives.
The Difference Between Me and You takes a rougher-hewn approach to expanding upon Do Dallas' different extremes, yet seems to share more attributes with Mclusky's 2000 debut, My Pain and Sadness Is More Painful Than Yours. Aside from each having titles involving terse personal comparisons, both records are malformed and underdeveloped, despite being similarly heavy on ideas. Andy Falkous' lyrics haven't regressed in their wittiness or caustic sarcasm, but his delivery is seldom as balls-out as on Do Dallas' "Lightsaber Cocksucking Blues" or their pants-soiling 2003 single, "There Ain't No Fool in Ferguson". Here, Mclusky appear to have recoiled from the hilarious absurdity of Do Dallas, and the move yields mixed results.
Interestingly, though, the record does find the band succeeding in some as-yet-unexplored territory. "She Will Only Bring You Happiness", a serious contender for their best track to date, is unlike any of their previous material: more tender, more tuneful, and more conventionally pop-minded. Following a brittle, strummed guitar, Falkous delivers an anthemic, self-reproaching vocal in markedly subdued form: "Note to self/ Be erect by half-past-ten/ Be strong/ Be proud/ Be able/ Be charmed," he sings, and for once, his voice-- possessing each of those qualities in droves-- is accompanied not by the reverberating gristle that's colored nearly all previous performances, but by a soaring, wistful guitar melody and a remarkably casual, downtempo rhythm. After exhausting a few verses, Falkous drops out, allowing the placid guitar line to shine, before chiming in again with the lyric, "Our old singer is a sex criminal." He's soon buttressed by a triple-tracked echo to form a cascading harmony that, despite the lyric's poetic oddness, is this album's sterling moment.
Unfortunately, "She Will Only Bring You Happiness" isn't a single, and there a dozen other tracks to account for, none of which live up to that song's pop splendor, and few of which even come close. One that does, albeit in sufficiently contrasting form, is the dubiously titled "KKKitchens, What Were You Thinking?" Following "She Will Only Bring You Happiness", the track dispels any potential sea change in Mclusky's sound that may have been hinted at by the previous number. Clocking in on the short side of two minutes, the song perhaps most closely reflects the bulk of Do Dallas' material, only tighter and more extreme in both volume and tempo. "Your Children Are Waiting for You to Die" follows, attempting to reconcile the stylistic polar opposites of the preceding two tracks, and for the most part, works-- until an abrupt stop that stifles any momentum the band had built.
The ensuing handful of tracks is a slog. In trying to accentuate the extremes of Do Dallas, Mclusky have found themselves with some throwaways on their hands. "Slay!", in particular, is an ill fit: Opening with a brooding vamp, the song quickly fades to black, thanks to a clumsily handled volume knob, before re-emerging with an expected jolt. In a live setting, the move might seem a pleasant surprise, but within the compressed dynamics of a studio album, it feels painfully stilted. "Support Systems" features more shock-and-awe dynamics, but grows dirgeful in its slow-building eight minutes. Throughout the record's entire sluggish second half, "You Should Be Ashamed, Seamus" stands out as the only truly solid track. Plodding, but anthemic, the song best affects the many promising ideas presented here, and retains intrigue on the strength of its central riff. Also, unlike many of the numbers here, its ending doesn't seem forced or clipped, as at 3:45, the song performs a limpid tempo change that it rides to a grinding unison halt.
The Difference Between Me and You Is That I'm Not on Fire is like a delicious soup you eagerly bring to your lips, only to jerk away because it's too damn hot. It's impudent of Mclusky to serve their delectable concoctions like this; if only they showed more restraint, and dropped an ice cube in the scalding mix, the result would be more palatable. Nevertheless, trying something new and coming up slightly short beats safely regurgitating proven ideas, and even if they didn't nail what they were aiming for on this outing, well, they're probably still better than your band.
