To an outsider, the Milk Teeth camp might seem a strange place to be at the moment. The apparently sudden departure of guitarist, co-vocalist and de facto frontman Josh Bannister – just three and a half weeks before the release of this, their debut album – would for many other bands be a knock from which they’d struggle to recover. But Milk Teeth aren’t many other bands.
If their professed confidence in the future, and the musical direction of singles like ‘Brickwork’ and ‘Brain Food’ weren’t enough of a hint that Milk Teeth 2016 are a radically different proposition to the bratty punks who’ve been tearing strips off live venues around the UK for the last couple of years, then Becky Blomfield’s recent revelation that she’s stepped up to take on a front woman role with the band should be. And one listen to ‘Vile Child’ makes it abundantly clear just how apt this development is.
Don’t be fooled by Bannister’s screamed vocals on the verses of preceding single, and album opener, ‘Brickwork’: whereas Milk Teeth’s previous EPs had showcased a blend of Bannister’s raw voice and punk guitar, and the more melodic, effects-laden tracks Blomfield writes with lead guitarist Chris Webb, on ‘Vile Child’ Blomfield is front-and-centre. To put it in the context of the 90s influences the band wear on their flannel shirt sleeves, there was always a good chance of this record owing as much of a debt to ‘Bleach’ as it did to ‘Doolittle’, but what we have instead is more of a civil war between the two.
Webb and Blomfield wrote nine of the twelve tracks on ‘Vile Child’ so the album’s voice, its creative direction, belongs to them. Huge, textured tracks like ‘Driveway Birthday’ sit comfortably alongside the punk-inflected songs like ‘Brain Food’, with its narrative of skint, millennial hopelessness. All of which constitutes a logical progression from the ‘Smiling Politely’ and ‘Sad Sack’ EPs. So much so, in fact, that when ‘Smiling Politely’ favourite, ‘Swear Jar’, crops up in a more polished, re-recorded form (all courtesy of UK producer-du-jour, Neil Kennedy) it doesn’t seem remotely out of place. Fuzzier than its forebears, perhaps, but entirely at home.
Elsewhere, ‘Moon Wanderer’ evokes Soundgarden’s ‘Black Hole Sun’ refitted with a growling, ominous bassline and Blomfield’s hauntingly melancholic voice. And of course ‘Kabuki’, a stripped-back acoustic number which surprised a lot of people when it was previewed late last year, is still unlike anything else the band have released.
Briefly promising a respite from the record’s emotional onslaught, it actually delivers the reverse. It’s personal to the point of voyeurism, but makes sense within the context of the album. “Ain’t no life of the party”, Blomfield intones. She’s speaking for herself, but hers could be the voice of the track itself.
‘Crows Feet’, which immediately follows, comes on like a pop-rock banger by comparison. The combination of its bouncing, grinding bass and sneeringly upbeat vocal hooks sees Blomfield channeling Chrissie Hynde by way of the soundtrack to mid-90s slacker classic ‘Mallrats’. Where the album doesn’t flow so smoothly, however, are the appearances of Bannister’s contributions.
‘Get A Clue’, and ‘Cut You Up’ jar the listener out of their comfort zone not just with their raucous punk thrash, but by virtue of their sounding so completely different to everything else on here. It’s clearly the same band, of course, but Bannister’s theatrical vocal aggression is so at odds with the rest of ‘Vile Child’ that it’s impossible not to speculate on whether this diversion in creative direction contributed to the band’s recent lineup change.
Regardless, the direction in which the band are heading is clear: big choruses, reverb-drenched guitars and the emergence of Becky Blomfield as one of the new crop of homegrown rock stars. While not a perfect album, it’s all too easy to forget that this is a debut. A debut from a band who have existed for fewer than three years.
‘Vile Child’ will be hailed by many as a statement of intent from one of the most exciting bands in the UK right now. We’re less convinced. It’s good – really good – but its split personality holds it back from being great. However, Milk Teeth have already begun writing for album number 2 and on this evidence, it’s going to be something worth waiting for.
ROB BARBOUR