The Cribs: Payola

They can’t sing, they squall and revel in feedback, they have dreadful haircuts in a genre where that’s sacrilege and have scarcely an original idea between the three of them. How then, did the three brothers Jarman, so long overshadowed by more polished and popular landfill indie groups, end up being not only one of the last ‘new rock revolution’ acts still thriving, but possibly that era’s greatest?
You can put it down to the Yorkshire warmth and self-effacing wit they invest in their songs, their understanding of what made their influences great and, most importantly, their unerring knack for turning up melody after melody of real pop brilliance. It’s no overstatement to suggest they could have gone the Xenomania route, becoming backroom pop writers and earning a tonne. Really though, the Wakefield trio are too true to their ‘ethical indie’ for that, too in love with the noise.
Payola – a handpicked ‘best of’ rather than the billed ‘singles collection’ – is a 40-track testament to their sustained, unassuming quality over the past 10 years. Disc One dips into each of their five records to date in haphazard fashion, placing the swooning Johnny Marr-assisted likes of ‘Cheat On Me’ alongside earlier, jittery gems such as ‘Hey Scenesters!’ The Cribs, though they dabble in Sonic Youth arty wig-outs that don’t really suit, excel in two modes – acerbic, catchier-than-a-vomiting-bug punk roars against injustice and mundanity, and streamlined guitar-pop paeans to love with a side order of self-loathing. Payola’s opener, 2004’s ‘Another Number’, nails both and introduces their ‘oh oh oh’ trademark earhooks. ‘Come On, Be A No-One’ is a billowing, anthemic call-to-arms and the previously unreleased ‘Leather Jacket Love Song’ is a joy. Meanwhile, the B-sides disc nearly matches the main draw. Payola has some missteps, rethreads and noticeable absentees, but overall it almost positions The Cribs as their generation’s Buzzcocks and itself as their Singles Going Steady. One stand-out, ‘Our Bovine Public’, spits at unnnamed contemporaries, ‘who’d never exist without being generic’. They haven’t reinvented the wheel themselves, but through sheer application, authenticity and songwriting talent, they now stand alone. Hopefully this isn’t their last laugh.