THE CORSAIRS – WHAT’S MY
AGE NOW?? (Foot Tapping Records)
Never judge a book by its
cover, that’s the advice we’re given, but nobody ever applies it to record
covers: if an album’s sleeve features four Hasselhoff rejects leaning awkwardly
against a gleaming bonnet whilst a schoolgirl’s skirt falls off in the
background, we can all be pretty certain it’ll be of negligible sonic
value. Faced with a huge list of
potential reviews, we tell the editor to send us any that have turned up on an
actual CD, because we’re old fashioned like that, and through the post comes
some of the least enticing local band artwork we’ve ever seen. It’s depressing when an album can remind you
of the hideous Blink 182 not once but twice, but The Corsairs manage it, not
only echoing the awful “What’s My Age Again?” in the title, but recalling the
parent album Enema Of The State with
the Naughty NurseTM on the cover art. In fact, they don’t even managed to find
their own Naughty NurseTM, but have clearly photoshopped in a stock
image. Add to this the fact that most of
the endorsements in the CD booklet come from scooter fanatics, who are
doubtless charming but not necessarily considered great rock music critics, and
from The Oxford Mail, who are neither,
and this looks to be one of the most depressing fifty minutes we’re likely to
have this year. And yet, like
cover-judging motherlovers throughout history, we were pleasantly
surprised. We won’t claim this record is
great, and nobody in wide creation would claim it was ground-breaking, but it
does succeed at what it sets out to do...and if that’s to make a gaggle of
lagered up Vespaphiles have a little frug, then fair enough.
The Corsairs are a
not-quite-psycho-enough psychobilly trio, led by double bassist Mark Loveridge,
and the record is split roughly equally between originals and crowd pleasing
covers. Of the latter, the best are a bennie-fuelled
sprint through “Hangin’ On The Telephone”, which leaves the melody mangled and
contorted in its lanky-legged race for the finish line, and a nice, sultry
bluebeat take on “Tears Of A Clown”, swapping the original’s fairground
richness for a taut, wiry sound. Amongst
those that fare less well are Prince Buster’s “Madness”, which seems pointless
as the UK already boasts a pretty great cover version (have a guess who by),
and “Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For”, which strains at the
limitations of the rockabilly form, and strains at the edge of Loveridge’s
vocal abilities; U2 are a band we consider to be desperately overwrought, but
at least they hit the heights of bluster they shoot at.
The originals don’t buck
any formulaic trends, but show an ear for a big chubby chorus hook, and a
likable ability with a cheerful tick-tock Bill Haley rhythm. We were convinced “Border Radio” was a cover
of an early 80s rock ‘n’ roll throwback band until we checked the credits,
which is proof that The Corsairs know their stuff, even as it ties them in
double retro knots that will ward away most of this site’s readers. “First Time” is the only clunker, sounding
like an after school club trying to make like The Rembrandts, but the record’s title track is something of
a winner, pumping a clicky Western swing rhythm up to amphetamine speed so it
sounds like Pinocchio skipping round Gepetto’s workshop high on creosote fumes,
before racing headlong into a brattish rockabilly chorus.
This isn’t CD we’re likely
to be spinning again, but in fairness, The Corsairs aren’t best judged at a
cluttered desk on an overcast Monday afternoon.
In the right atmosphere, at the right volume, with a beer in each hand
and a Naughty NurseTM buffing
your Lambretta, it might just all make sense...or at least make you stagger
about happily at that time of night when making sense doesn’t seem desperately
important.
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