Review Summary: Debut E.P. that rocks pretty hard but is coated in sugar
Long hair? Check. Plaid shirts? Check. Crunching guitars? Check. Odd looking drummer? Check. Thanks to these attributes, Dinosaur Pile-Up are likely to make (and indeed already have had) poorly informed music critics mention them in the same breath as a certain Nirvana. This is perhaps an understandable reaction given the recent resurgence, or at least re-emergence, of the Pixies, Alice in Chains and Pearl Jam. Coupled with the refusal of Chris Cornell to go away this leaves only a Nirvana-shaped hole where grunge used to exist.
However, those expecting Dinosaur Pile-Up to fill these shoes will be sorely disappointed. Granted, the influence of grunge is evidently worn very tightly under their checked sleeves, with dissonant chords, bone-shaking drums and the classic quiet verse loud chorus approach. However, apart from fleetingly on closing track ‘Beach Bug’, Dinosaur Pile-Up lack the latent aggression to compare with their far more angst-ridden forebears.
Instead, and presumably unintentionally, The Greatest E.P. in the World most frequently recalls sleaze-pop-punksters the Bloodhound Gang. This might sound like a disaster, but actually works rather well – if nothing else the likeness mercifully prevents Dinosaur Pile-Up from sounding anything like self-important British grunge-approximaters Bush. In fact, thanks to the dulled Americanised vocal delivery and whimsical subject matter, ‘Cat Attack’ could be the best song the Bloodhound Gang never wrote, and ‘Summer Hit’ displays all of the ‘Gang’s ear for melody without descending into needless, humourless profanity.
Despite the lack of song variety evident on this E.P., and without attempting anything remotely groundbreaking, Dinosaur Pile-Up actually come across as rather refreshing, especially given the mire of spidery-legged, tousle-haired Camdenite indie bands currently dominating English guitar music. Their approach might wear thin on a full long-player, but for the moment this band are a welcome breath of (reconstituted 1990s) air. Just don’t expect a glimpse of Nirvana.
