Detroit Social Club act are big. But they're not clever. Essentially a vehicle for the songwriting of David Burn, the Newcastle act make ostentatious, but empty lyrical gestures and trade in huge, stadium-ready choruses. What's more, there isn't anything on Existence that hasn't been done before: the swagger is pure 'mad-fer-it' circa 1994; the gnomic utterances are Ian Brown at his most mystifying and the attempt to instil instant majesty by the copious use of strings harks back to The Verve.
At times, DSC manage to carry you along with their grand delusions. There is something intoxicating about several of these beery anthems, be it the jackhammer thud of 'Kiss The Sun', the orchestrated sweep of 'Northern Man', or the fierce pulse that underpins Burn's shamanistic declarations on The Music-alike 'Prophecy'. However, you'd best not scrutinise the lyrics too closely – the latter track opens with the cringe-worthy rhyme, “See this man/ Take his hand/ He will lead you to the Promised Land”.
On occasion, DSC offer more exotic fare. 'Sunshine People' has a psychedelic-hue that recalls Kula Shaker, whilst the Primal Scream-esque 'Silver' adds colour, via maracas and bongos. Ultimately, though, Existence is a case of been there, done that and bought the Kasabian t-shirt.