From headlining Glastonbury, to being compared to Spinal Tap – Kasabian have had their biggest year to date.
We take an in-depth look at their latest release – 48:13
The history of popular music has many glorious examples of successful artists throwing curve balls to their loyal audiences, to varying levels of success; Bob Dylan went electric and got booed, Metallica went symphonic and sold millions, Jello Biafra sang country and got beaten up, whilst Radiohead took an Aphexian cue and caused lots of concerned conversations amongst student unions the world over.
The odds on Kasabian joining the list of mavericks who find a new creative seam to mine mid-career would surely be pretty high. Put a copy of 48:13 on your platter and you may wish you’d placed such a bet, as a Swans-esque drone underpins some reverb-heavy synth melodies that would not sound out of place on a Tangerine Dream record.
For exactly one minute and seven seconds.
Then, with a military kick drum and a “Hey – Hey” through a megaphone, (Shiva) becomes Bumblebee and Kasabian are back to their standard shouty, stompy swing. It’s hard to blame the band for not wanting to veer far from their blueprint as their unchallenging brand of indie-dance has made them an indispensable tool for festival promoters who want their headline slot filled. Hard to blame them, but if you afford 48:13 any more than a cursory listen then it’s hard to argue that it isn’t a shame.
At it’s worst, this record sounds like the horrific result of Ned’s Atomic Dustbin jamming with Skrillex on an fairground waltzer. Their ham-fisted attempts at psychedelia will do little to help Billy Bragg differentiate them from Spinal Tap. Many words could be wasted bemoaning the truly terrible lyrics that seem to consist solely of narcotic innuendo so blatant that even Spiritualized’s Jason Pierce would reject them for being insufficiently subtle.
However, on the occasions that Sergio Pizzorno allows his group to go off-piste the results are genuinely refreshing and inspired. Treat is aptly titled; despite beginning in Kasabian’s time-honoured, hard-baggy tradition, it evolves into a nu-disco journey with a bass-line that the likes of Dixon, Ame and Mark E would be unlikely to sniff at. The album’s fist single Eez-eh isn’t quite so in sync with contemporary dance-floor trends, but it does manage to sound like Hot Chip after an afternoon on White Lightning, which can only be a good thing.
And there, of course, is the rub. Whilst there is nothing on this record that will dissuade any of the band’s hordes of joining the sweaty mass at a Kasabian show, there just isn’t enough to convince many sceptics to add to their ranks. Somewhere amongst the stomp and grind is a band who may just have something new to say. What a shame it isn’t allowed out very often.
Author – Peter, Southgate store
