We’ll Go Machete’s Paul Warner screeches his lyrics with an urgency that perfectly encapsulates this record. ‘Smile Club’ is a wonky, energetic album that sounds like a band desperately clinging to their Shellac records while chugging the dregs of the awful coffee Tommy Lee Jones refuses at the end of No Country for Old Men. This is not a bad thing.
Dynamics are the recurring theme throughout and each song has several changes. Time signatures hop about, beats are dropped and staccato chords spike along the way. The Texas trio even manages some excellent grooves.
‘Absence’ opens the record and sets the tone for what will follow. It begins with a typical pounding straight beat under the verse but switches that out for some off-beat drums to create a pre-verse interlude. The vocals are quickly abandoned in favour of creating an electric groove that is led by Chris May’s bass. In its 3:25 running time, over a minute is dedicated to this groove that would make early 90s Fugazi proud.
This structure and hardcore abandon is the style for the vast majority of the album. Paul’s lyrics scream madcap nonsense but, oddly, it adds to the overall sound. The sheer conviction with which he says, “Built like a neurotic squirrel, huff the fumes we’re running on” make the incomprehensibleness forgivable.
‘Smile Club’ is an album of scattershot ideas thrown at the wall. The mood is one of anxiety, frustration and cynicism. On ‘Scratch Built’, the band starts with a slow-burn that recalls ‘Washing Machine’ era Sonic Youth. It’s impressive that just three people create such a big sound. This is then abandoned after a minute and a half; the tempo kicks up and we get a sludge metal riff with all the off-kilter trimmings.
What’s difficult to take away from the album is the songs themselves. Some of the shorter songs, such as ‘Strasberg Air’ are more cohesive but still get a bit lost in the shuffle. There are some fantastic bits on here but fans of more traditional songs will struggle to get to grips with ‘Smile Club’’s eccentricities.
ASHLEY PARTRIDGE