The Lights In This Town Are Too Many To Count

By now on their fourth album, London songwriting duo and siblings Danny and Julian Wilson have made a name for themselves courtesy of their respectful borrowing from that American musical genre marked, “Throaty crooners sing about the birds and the booze to a backdrop of ragged alt.country”. Even before I’ve opened the PR release, I know the reference points to expect: Dylan, Petty, The Byrds and The Band with a more than-is-strictly-necessary side order of Tonight’s The Night-era Neil Young.
Now, trying to sound like CSN&Y is all very well (America were doing it brilliantly back in the ‘70s with ‘Horse With No Name’ after all), but unless you’re going to (a) invest the tunes with Young’s deft lyrical flourishes, (b) merge the sound with a few other top-class influences so there’s at least some kind of half-hearted nod towards originality and (c) – aspiring singer-writer types, pay special attention to this part – demonstrate Shakey’s winning way with a killer melody, well, I’m afraid my friends that you’re flogging a dead Crazy Horse.
The opening section of The Lights In This Town is bedevilled by a peculiarly English malfunction, the one that occurs when stoner musicians from Blighty attempt to appropriate the stylistic nuances of the Americana idiom and fall flat on their arses: we’re talking such eminently forgettable outfits as Cast, Lowgold, The Seahorses, The Bluetones and many other also-rans it would be irresponsible of me to push into the consciousness of impressionable young music fans. The likes of ‘Love And The Truth’, ‘Maybe I’m A Winner’ and ‘The Real Thing’ amble along aimlessly on hopelessly over-familiar musical terrain; plaintively plucked acoustic guitar, jingle-jangle riffs and leaden dad-rawk rhythms that are the stuff of rock journo nightmares.
There is at least some minor improvement late in the game, when the influence of producer Malcolm Burn (a protégé of Daniel Lanois who has previously worked with Iggy Pop) becomes more apparent; the ghosts of Mercury Rev, Spiritualized and even Miles Davis make their presence felt on tunes like ‘Santa Rita’ and ‘Final Hour’.
Ultimately, though, The Lights In This Town makes a compelling case for the constitutional outlawing of the artistic homage. Uncle Oscar may have made the percipient point that talent borrows and genius steals, but on this occasion it feels more appropriate to (mis)quote Kirk Douglas in Paths Of Glory: “Plagiarism is the last refuge of the scoundrel”.