written by Chris Familton

Youthful energy and a lust for rebellion has long been a driving force behind rock music. From rock & roll, garage rock and punk through to metal and grunge it has ignited the fire in the bellies of young men and women seeking to kill boredom and create art. inevitably most of them lose that initial spark, the magic dissipates and the music suffers.

Violent Soho are still at that initial stage where they feel like they are invincible, surfing a wave of adulation and attention that has taken them from Queensland to America and into the hands of movers and shakers like producer Gil Norton and Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore. On their first international release they summon all of their energy and musical ability to create a flawed, somewhat derivative yet often enjoyable album.

The problem with re-recording previously released songs and mixing them with newer ones is that the inadequacies of the older songs are highlighted. That is pretty much the case here when the immature lyrics of My Generation, Muscle Junkie and Love Is A Heavy Word are exposed for their plastic rebellion. The music still stands up but the teenage angst poetry falls flat and gives the songs a cartoon day-glo feel.

The grunge copycat accusations that are relentlessly slung at Violent Soho are valid to a certain extent here but there are more recent influences like The Vines, Grinspoon and Shihad that become clear when the album is taken as a whole. Yes they’ve taken notes on Nirvana’s quiet/loud dynamics but generally they back it up with enough musicality to make it enjoyable. Even within the realm of grunge they can inject some glam rock in the vein of Stone Temple Pilots on My Generation but just as quickly fall flat with a song like Son Of Sam that comes across like Bush or Filter (yes… who?)

When Violent Soho get it right they restore instant faith. Narrow Ways is such a progression from the chordal thrash of most of the album that it bides well if this is the direction they are heading. They mix acoustic and electric guitars and Luke Boerdam sings rather than shredding his throat with screams. It is a gloriously melodic piece of indie rock that finely balances the raw and considered aspects of their songwriting with great production.

As an international calling card this album may not make the splash they are hoping for. It will capture the imagination of kids whose parents experienced similar music in their youth but any longevity that the band experiences will need to develop from the few tantalising moments of greatness on the record. In those few instances you sense them emerging from their influences, blinking into the sunlight of self-realisation and glimpsing the confidence they’ll need to evolve their songwriting to a more original and ultimately satisfying form.

This review first appeared on The Dwarf