Review Summary: For solo album three Grant presents us with a self-assured grower rather than a game-changing shower
John Grant's backstory is the sort of baggage that could threaten to swamp an entire career; his first two solo albums certainly gave the impression that the big man's pool of inspiration was drawn entirely from his chequered history and recent relationship fall out. The question of course was what would happen if Grant were to find himself in a more contented state of mind and no longer fixated on his past; what could draw the grizzly's gaze away from such fertile hunting ground? 'Grey Tickles, Black Pressure' goes someway to answering this as here we find Grant's emotional tunnel vision replaced by a wider scope that allows him to flip-flop between subject matter and tone with near gay abandon.
The upbeat dance inflected red-herring first single 'Disappointing' will be many people's introduction to the album and this song coupled with Grant's excellent collaboration with Hercules & Love Affair 'Liberty' will have left many anticipating a totally new direction, something along the lines of a 'happy John' knees-up, keeping to the pattern of evolution he'd established up to this point; that it doesn't mark anything of the sort is something his audience will have to accept and move on from. 'Grey Tickles...' is an album made up of songs that, other than 'Disappointing', could easily have been included on either the 70's pastoral ballad-heavy 'Queen of Denmark' or the quirky electro grab bag 'Pale Green Ghosts' and as a result it's identity is more muddled and its appeal less obvious.
Craftily Grant sugars this difficult pill by leaning heavily on his big weapon; always one of the more humorous lyricists currently operating this time we see the funnies placed front and centre. 'You & Him' in particular plays out like a masterpiece of bitchiness with irresistible put downs like 'you think you're super special but you're just a thick twat' delivered with enviable panache. The musical backing for these kiss-offs is similarly a masterstroke, landing somewhere between an Eels comedy number and a Marilyn Manson rocker, the idea of which made funnier still when you try to picture a green cardigan-clad Grant moving to this noise. Elsewhere we're forced to walk the tightrope of awkwardness as he teases us mercilessly with lines like 'and there are children who have cancer...so all bets are off'. Are we supposed to laugh? Tut? Cringe? Naughty boy. This wilfully cheeky and perverse approach is most evident on the first half of the album with the more 'serious' material backloaded, lending the album a certain schizophrenic quality.
The ballads that make up the majority of John's back end here are somewhat troublesome and are where a sense of over familiarity will seep in for those who've already fully digested 'Queen of Denmark'. Grant has some favoured melodies and progressions that he retreats to time and again, and when coupled with THAT distinct timbre of voice, the sense that you're listening to a retread can be uncanny. This is where patience is required; the listener is expected to look beyond the surface layer of immediacy and delve deeper into the nuance of individual turns of phrase and inflection for their fresh hit. In time 'Global Warming' and 'Magma' reveal themselves to be very much their own beasts and every bit as powerful as former glories even if melodically they never get close to reinventing Grant's wheel.
The title of the album alludes to a midlife crisis and is well chosen, this album isn't born from youthful struggle but instead marks the middle aged malaise of catching yourself worrying about what exactly you should be worrying about; rather than sobbing into a pillow here we capture our hero lost in the supermarket, slack jawed watching haemorrhoid ointment commercials or musing that all he has are distinctly first world problems. Luckily Grant is one of the only artists you can imagine getting away with documenting such prosaic set ups; he has no problem getting to the real guts of his own ridiculousness and those who meet with his withering disdain. Despite this 'Grey Tickles...' remains an album that asks an awful lot from its audience and is very much the tricky sell; there's no overarching theme or backstory to sell tickets here, no game-changing musical about-face to peak the audience's interest. With no adornments to hide behind this emperor has found himself stripped butt naked leaving his subjects to gawp and wonder what the hell is with that self-assured smile anyway; trust him, give it time, this is a man who knows exactly what kind of punch his manhood packs.
