Mute

CATCHERS: “Mute” (Setanta)

“Up here in the Northern Isles/ . . . We’ve got indie pop on the stereo/ We’ve got a jingle jangle morning/ Everywhere we go,” sang The Stars Of Heaven back in the days when the Rickenbacker was king; but the chimes they were a-changin’ and it wasn’t long before Kurt Cobain got his first whiff of the pungent odour of grunge and all was changed, changed utterly.

However, what the new crop of Irish bands are doing now in the wake of that movement’s ostensible self-implosion is to retrace the steps of rock ‘n’ roll folklore – with some modifications – back to mid-Eighties guitar pop.

Earlier this year we had In Motion’s The Language Of Everyday Life and now the debut album from Catchers. Originally from up North but now based in London, Mute is a rather ironic title for a record that has so much it wants to say. The layered, honeycombed melodies of songs like ‘Beauty No. 3’, ‘Cotton Dress’ or ‘Epitaph’ speak a language more eloquent than words.

Woven together in France by veteran producer Mike Hedges, Mute is a seamless tapestry of delectable songs sung by voices that can melt the most hardened of hearts at close range. On this evidence, songwriter/guitarist Dale Grundle and keyboard player Alice Lemon could become the most sought-after tonsil-pairing since one Indigo Girl decided to rub larynxes with the other.

So far so good. But there are reservations to be booked. Lyrically there’s a tendency to over-indulge the creative muse leading to some pretty obscure, oblique lines like these: “This is a song from beneath the ground/ I only echo October’s sound/ Belly kissed into some half-life/ Standing naked to be crucified.” (‘Song For Autumn’).

Such impenetrable lines are a feature of Grundle’s lyrical style but the trouble is that they tend to isolate rather than communicate to the listener. The care he has taken to say things in a heightened, poetic way is a double-edged sword whose underside is the opacity of meaning itself.

Also, songs like ‘Jesus Spaceman’ see grunge sneak up from behind to score a late consolation goal in the guise of its centre forward Black Francis, whose spirit hovers a bit too close for comfort: “Been to Roswell, been to Mars/ Got a home on the ocean floor/ Got a home among the stars/ . . . I’m jumping through your waves.” Lyrically, this song manages to pack nearly every motif in the Pixie prince’s oeuvre into just four lines !

It would be pedantic to namecheck every other musical reference that springs to mind but suffice to say that Catchers are still very much under the influence of their record collection.

But that’s not reason enough why you shouldn’t make their own record part of yours. Catchers may have flaws in some departments but their potential to make all round classic pop music is there for all to hear. Give them time, give them time.

• Nicholas G Kelly