Stoned & Dethroned

LISTENING TO the new Jesus & Mary Chain album the other night in the Stately Clark Mansions music room, it can’t have been more than 15 seconds before the first person screamed: “where’s the fucking feedback?”

We had to flog Hargreaves, the faithful family retainer, to within an inch of his life for speaking without permission but he was right.

In much the same way as James Brown’s ability to funk depends on a brass section and Kraftwerk would sound pretty bloody silly sans synthesisers, the Reid Brothers’ Godlike melodies only explode into life when there are violent shards of noise around to serve as a counterbalance.

It could have been even worse – Stoned & Dethroned started life as an acoustic affair and it was only when the record company gave the thumbs down to the demos, that the Mary Chain decided to give a reprieve to their long-suffering Fenders.

Taken in isolation, all of the album’s generous quota of 17 tracks have plenty to recommend them. They’re never going to win any prizes for their lyrics – “Jesus walked on the water on the water/We walk on dampness too/Yes we do through and through” (‘Wish I Could’) has to be the dumbest couplet of the year – but when you get hooks as immaculate as the ones sported by ‘Bullet Lovers’ and ‘Between Us’, Glasgow’s finest become the closest thing with a floppy fringe to the Beach Boys.

Better still is ‘Sometimes Always’, Jim and Mazzy Star’s Hope Sandoval doing their Sonny & Cher bit on a fluffy slice of I’m-too-cool-to-admit-it-but-I-really-love-you playfulness which has the good grace to quit early before it outstays its welcome.

Having established that it does indeed have its moments of pure genius, I’d better explain why I’ve awarded Stoned & Dethroned a measly seven on the dice when previous Jesus & Mary Chain efforts have all tumbled confidently into double figures.

Like I said before, it’s the noise – or distinct lack of it.

Whereas Psychocandy and its schizophrenic ilk clawed at your throat one moment and kissed the wound better the next, this is a frustratingly composed affair that’s heavy on the sweet to the detriment of the sour. Let’s face it, how many Mars Bars can you stuff down your throat without feeling sick?

There’s nothing apart from the odd percussion embellishment to distinguish ‘Save Me’ from ‘God Help Me’, ‘Hole’ and ‘Wish’ are locked in a sinfully incestuous relationship and if anyone can spot the difference between ‘Dirty Water’ and ‘New Saw It Coming’, I’ll gladly Immac my body, cover myself with Vaseline and spend the rest of my days as a garden slug.

For Hargreaves’ sake, lads, turn it up!

• Stuart Clark