It's like Broken Records don't trust us to comprehend their subtle majesty, so they decide to hammer it home in case we've missed it. Combined with Sutherland's emphatic angst, it portrays a sense of self-importance that's difficult to bear.
And that is so very frustrating because Until The Earth is an album that could've been "important", as far as indie rock ever can be, had it been recorded with a touch of modesty in mind.
The producer could've minimised the gradiosity of the arrangements, not highlighted them. Someone could've had a discreet word in Jamie Sutherland's ear about his vocals. The band could've directed more songs towards un-epic endings.
Sutherland could've thought about why the sixth track was like a song as written by Eilert Loevberg, and renamed it so we might understand. Until The Earth isn't a disaster. For many, Broken Records' grandiosity will amplify the obvious strengths in the songwriting. The Waterboys sold millions, won awards and rave reviews, and toured the world, and Broken Records still have a lot of achievements within their grasp.
But others will be blinded by their bluster, dissuaded from listening by the forced sincerity and manufactured meaningfulness. Similarly, singer Jamie Sutherland doesn't help matters as he over-emotes almost every line, sounding terribly self-important in the process, and certainly lacking the kind of catharsis that the Arcade Fire excel in.
The emotion on show just feels forced, while the blustery delivery tends to shield the listener from the actual words being sung, leaving the impression that the songs are hollow at the core and lacking intent. Unfortunately those lines which do stand out are somewhat cringe-inducing, be they bland attempts at subversive statement "Politicians! They don't speak for me" or the pseudo-apocalyptic nonsense such as the album title itself. If all this seems rather harsh it is to be remembered that some will find a great deal of enjoyment in the bombastic orchestral folk-rock in which Broken Records specialise.
However, taken beyond face value, we have an album that displays a band with considerable potential, but which is disappointingly lacking in imagination: compositionally and lyrically. Drowned in Sound's 21 Favourite Albums of the Y Drowned in Sound to return as a weekly newsletter. Lou Reed: An Eu-lulu-ogy. But we really shouldn't go any further without addressing this record's-- and until further notice, this band's-- biggest problem, namely, Sutherland going full-on diva like life is a big commercial.
Typically, "bad" vocalists are known as such if they're on the bland side or can't hit notes, but what about giving no quarter whatsoever to what the other guys in the band are doing?
I guess it's probably not in Sutherland's best interests to let the lyrics speak for themselves, but he never exhibits awareness of his surroundings, toggling between overbearing brogue and overbearing falsetto to the point where Jeff Buckley sounds like Guru by comparison.
Where Broken Records' "twist" comes in is their adherence to folk stylings, "folk" usually meaning a double-time drum beat and some tiny stringed instrument playing the front.
The track that attempts to set up shop in that region "A Good Reason" sounds suspiciously similar to "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" without the kickass solos, and I seriously doubt they were looking to go there. It turns out to be pretty embarrassing straight-from-Cliff's Notes fan-fic, and an unbelievably obvious unintentional metaphor for a record.
It is, frequently, great. But at their very least annoying. The title track, meanwhile, is arresting in its open-hearted sincerity and introspective elegance. One hopes that newcomers to the band will take a little time to explore each song, such are the myriad dimensions at play; but the realist concludes with ease that few will actually make such a commitment.
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