How We Operate

“I stopped trying to write the things I don’t like/And I started going back to where I been before”. So begins ‘Notice’, the opening track on Gomez’s latest effort, and it could be the modus operandi for the entire album, which is certainly a return to the form that saw the English multi-instrumentalists scoop the Mercury Music Prize in 1998.
They’re back doing the things they do best, writing superbly laid-back tunes that combine elements of rock, country and even the odd dollop of funk. In the past, Gomez sometimes seemed to get bogged down in utilising all manner of unusual instrumentation and being a little too clever for their own good. This time around they’ve reverted to the things we loved about them in the first place – the songs. There’s still plenty going on, but the arrangements aren’t allowed to supercede the tunes, with the result that How We Operate is brimming over with potential singles, particularly the uber-infectious ‘Girlshapedlovedrug’, the super-summery ‘Woman! Man!’ and the toe-tappingly addictive ‘Cry On Demand’.
In Ben Ottwell, Ian Ball and Tom Grey, Gomez have three fine vocalists and their vastly different vocal styles mean that there’s never a chance of things getting boring, while the harmonies are consistently sublime: even the reasonably raucous ‘Tear Your Love Apart’ is transformed by the three-way harmonies on the chorus.
‘See The World’ is a gorgeous, gentle countrified affair, where plucked acoustic guitars underpin the melody, while Ben’s raspy but melifluous tones wind their way around a catchy mid-tempo tune with a chorus that shimmers from your speakers, surfing on sun-rays. Similarly, ‘Hamoa Beach’ is as bright and breezy as an Ealing comedy, while ‘Charlie Patton Sings’ exudes bittersweet melancholia from every chord.
‘Chasing Ghosts With Alcohol’ is a distant cousin of ‘Tijuana Lady’, beginning as a slide-guitar weepie before mutating into a cascading well of power-chords. The title track’s stop-start staccato beats make it more insistent, although it does meander a little over its five and a half minute duration, but it’s worth listening to for the middle-eight alone, which oozes yearning.
How We Operate is a stellar return to form from a band that many had given up on, and could well be the surprise soundtrack to summer 2006.