Review Summary: Spy Catcher arise from unlikely musical backgrounds and bring with them a stunning rock debut
“It's clearly quite a cynical record with titles like 'I Don't Like People',” said bassist Stuart Gili-Ross to
Rocksound when describing Spy Catcher's debut,
Honesty; and further explaining, “We’re not jaded [though,] but we’ve been around the block.” Indeed, the boys from Watford have done just that - and not just in a figurative or carnal way either: Spy Catcher is a super-group featuring members from notable acts
Haunts,
Cry For Silence, and in bassist Gili-Ross' case, UK hardcore leaders
Gallows. This now two-year-old four-piece has had its fair share of the treacherous music business already, even before the release of its debut late last June. However, having known the history of
Honesty's creators' backgrounds, you might fall victim to coming to Spy Catcher and their debut album with false expectations, however: a riff-roaring splash in the hardcore territory of
Gallows or a dash of new-wave-tinged indie rock in
Haunts' own aesthetic liking this is not. But instead if you will, rewind the clock back a little bit to the 70s and early 80s of
The Replacements when rock was fresh and honest: this is Spy Catcher's
Honesty.
The key to
Honesty's success is alluded to in its very title, actually; as when read with the simple context of verse-chorus, honest rock 'n' roll in mind – not to mention with the absence of any bull sh
itting overly optimistic lyrics, too – Spy Catcher never fail you or offer anything that you might perceive as trite or non-genuine: complete honesty here. The instantly lovable “I Don't Like People” comes off the tail of “Tabs”, an instrumentally minimalistic song about simply “making roll-ups at the side of the road”, according to Gili-Ross. Accompanying sounds of a party dot the former and frame and paint a perfect picture of the anxiety that singer/guitarist Steve Sears must have in his mind as he sings compellingly for listeners. Toward the song's climax, rolling drums from Lee Barratt build behind Sears as he repeats the main chorus line over well-placed layering effects, rallying listeners to his declarative fear and urging them to take up the chant.
Honesty's best moments are those that follow in like manner, Spy Catcher acting in perfect, honest union with themselves: “Reason to Breathe In” is the most unconventional track present, in which accompanying acoustics join with eclectic beats and sparse keyboard tones to build around Sears for the album's lone song about a girl. But the band makes it all work naturally, though. Spy Catcher join as one when Sears employs a powerful falsetto before a wall of distortion drives the track triumphantly to a close. The band's talents are further put to use on proper closer “Rock Is Cursed”, a lamenting of the decaying state of rock music in the mainstream. An air wave-conquering hook leads the chorus of “Time takes its toll / there's just rock, and there is roll” as guitarists Sears and Mitch Mitchener pour on the driving, thick riffs under his passionate vocal. Early-on, lead-single and should be-summer anthem “Remember Where You Were When Michael Jackson Died” is, by far,
Honesty's pinnacle track. “This song is about things constantly changing around you, often for the worse, but remembering why you chose your way of life in the first place,” states singer Sears when discussing
Honesty in a track-by-track interview. Guitarist Mitchener is given a violin for the recording on the song, sounding just like a professional with its use, and in junction with the song's mind-glue-like lead riff and instantly anthemic chorus, Spycatcher and their label surely have a f
ucking winner on their hands.
Honesty's only setbacks are actually sprung from a few of its strengths: its often straightforward rock template and layout may sometimes keep a couple of its songs from going where you'd like them to go. “Hold On” is one such example: the tale of uncertainty and perseverance sets itself up to build and build in an anthem-like manner for a pulse-raising conclusion, yet frustratingly under a trick-some drum beat, the song suddenly fizzles to close without any sort of closure. “There Is No Light”, a song that on its own is strong, fails to follow through with its potential as well in a similar setup. Compactness seems to be traded in for the risk here by Spy Catcher, but in these instances the band should have just pushed
Honesty's running time, instead of holding it back. After all, the payoff, as best evidenced by the victory at the ending of “I Don't Like People”, is surely worth the extra push.
Still,
Honesty does in thirty-nine minutes what many band's can't do in an hour or more, and despite the failings of a few songs, these same tracks themselves still stand strong alone and flow well in context of the album. Spy Catcher's proposed motive since their inception two years ago was for a no bull sh
it affair, and with restraint and skill, the four-piece is triumphantly successful in creating a honest, straightforward rock debut: you always get a sense of there being a proper flow and genuine quality workmanship when listening to the album. Whether or not it makes it in the market is likely of no consequence to the band members themselves: “We said, 'F
uck everything, we’ll do the album ourselves, expecting to get a bit of criticism and curiosity,” states Gili-Ross concerning the Spy Catcher's decision to record
Honesty after a year of waiting. Some disappointment often follows on the heels of honesty after all, so no big surprise there, but a lukewarm market reception can't lower the level of the quality music to be found here for those that discover it. It's all a job well done.
