- Music
- 31 Mar 01
1999 and what the hell is going on? Leisure time in our booze economy is more likely to entail getting plastered, donning a cheap '70s wig and dancing to some awful tribute act than checking out something new. Even the silver screen is dominated by the likes of Boogie Nights and Special Agent Austin Powers celebrating the 'shagadelic' seventies. Groovy baby, yeah? Not if you are looking through The Auteurs' untainted glasses.
1999 and what the hell is going on? Leisure time in our booze economy is more likely to entail getting plastered, donning a cheap '70s wig and dancing to some awful tribute act than checking out something new. Even the silver screen is dominated by the likes of Boogie Nights and Special Agent Austin Powers celebrating the 'shagadelic' seventies. Groovy baby, yeah? Not if you are looking through The Auteurs' untainted glasses.
In 1996, The Auteurs lost their cult following with After Murder Park. Having subsequently inflicted his psyche on ever-dwindling audiences with the highly controversial Baader Meinhof and Black Box Recorder incarnations, Haines returns complete with all original Auteurs present and correct. Their comeback is a ferocious indictment of nostalgia - looking back at the gang violence, small town isolation and the high rise boredom of the decade others like to associate with Dancing Queens and Disco Divas.
Yet it's not all class rage, revenge and vitriol. How I Learned To Love The Bootboys happens to be an almost faultless collection of songs. The title track sees The Auteurs at their most musically dextrous, creating a terrifying mock disco shuffle while Haines coldly intones "Oh yeah alright who's scared tonight?/Alright oh yeah who's scared to dance?"
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'Your Gang Our Gang' manages to simultaneously sum up gang warfare and take a stab at Gary Glitter, and from there on in it's a journey into the heart of darkness. 'School' looks back in horror: "Some blank verse for Michael Ray/Blue or white powder on his fifteenth/join the army or the National Front/When you're sixteen." It's as insightful as Pulp at their best but without the posturing and the lip-gloss.
It is a remarkable achievement: Haines has ingeniously captured the very essence of adolescence, while also taking a savage swipe at how culture redefines and commodifies an era. While there has been an avalanche of releases this year from major British acts, none have come anywhere near this in terms of depth of vision and sheer passionate intent. It's high time for Damon, Brett and Noel to go back to the bottom of the class. Luke Haines is the best songwriter in Britain, hands down.