Drop Nineteens: “National Coma’ (Hut)

Although Christmas here in the Emerald Isle officially ends on the sixth of January, given the extent of festive celebration the title, National Coma, of the debut disc from this American five-piece with illustrious parents might not be a bad description at all for the kind of state the country seems to slip into for the month of January. Thankfully, though, there’s nothing comatose about the music of the Drop Nineteens.

The opener ‘Limp’, which was also the first single release from the thirteen tracks on the album, is an able enough tune in that it will immediately make you sit up and take notice that there just might be something really happening here, Joe Public. The main influence on the music is very much the more melodic and understated punk typified by the likes of Wire, the Buzzcocks and The Raincoats as opposed to the, at times, heavier, somewhat strident and more conventional chords of post-hardcore American grunge, though the latter is undoubtedly present especially, significantly enough, on the less interesting tunes such as ‘7/8’ or ‘Franco Inferno’. However, those tunes on which the former style prevails consequently provide quite a manic pop thrill.

‘Cuban’, which as far as I can make out is a consideration of the pros and cons of a holiday in Cuba, is a delightful duet which for some perverse reason reminds me of Dean Friedman’s horrendous ‘Lucky Stars’ (but don’t be deterred by that), and which starts off as quiet as you like and then sparkles into quivering action. ‘The Dead’ is suffused with as cool a modern sensibility as you could wish for even if it does bear too much resemblance to The Pixies’ Bossanova surf-punk style. ‘Rot Winter’, the outstanding number, to these ears at least, best exemplifies the difficult and delicate balance between the sweet and the antagonistic which the band manage to maintain with impressive confidence for the entire playing time, which happens to clock in at four seconds under forty minutes.

American rock, even at it’s best, can often sound melodramatic to European, that includes Irish and British, aural orifices. Drop Nineteens might, here and there, sound like a too knowing amalgam of all the choicest indie riffs but with their collective musical ego kept well in check there are moments, mostly awkward ones, when these young folk threaten to create genuinely sublime compositions. National Coma could be the beginning of something global. In the meantime there’s enough here to justify warm anticipation of what Drop Nineteens have to offer in the future.

• Patrick Brennan