Review Summary: With a unique blend of fuzzy, Seattle anti-pop and funky glam rock, it's a shame it falls so quickly into imitation.
There aren’t too many groups like Angels of Mons, where the image inspired by the band name so perfectly matches the reality that it can’t simply be coincidence (Rancid may have come close a few years ago when Josh Homme started porking Tim Armstrong’s wife, but that’s another matter.) The Dublin-based power trio named themselves for the famed Angels of Mons, mythical guardian spirits who were said to have intervened on behalf of the vastly outnumbered British army during one of the First World War’s earliest battles.
Encouraging the likeness from the get-go, Angels were the consummate rock stars; mysterious and coolly aloof on stage, the band was fronted by twin giants Steve Robinson and bassist Neil Mitchell. And like the Angels of lore, Angels of Mons’ reputation preceded them; a
buzz grew around the band, fuelled by a small army of adulating fans and critical acclaim. Shortly after the album’s release, the band was presented with the ‘Hope For 2005’ honour at the Meteor Awards (the Irish equivalent of the Brits): an award-type peculiar to small nations, driven by a unceasing inferiority complex and the stunningly clear-headed realisation that, though we can never completely deny responsibility for Snow Patrol, we can at least try to make amends by presenting the outside world with a more worthwhile alternative.
For their part, Angels of Mons’ music is at least as noteworthy as the legend which spawned their name. Driven mainly by Robinson’s distinctive brogue (the middle-class Dublin accent is too uncommon on today’s rock n’ roll scene) and piercing falsetto, debut singles ‘Madame Zane’ and ‘Highs And Lows’ (which also open the album) exhibit a unique blend of fuzzy, Seattle anti-pop and funky glam rock. ‘Highs And Lows’ is a fiercely melodic, brilliantly-produced (courtesy of Gareth Mannix) pop number which pushes all the right buttons, cleverly spinning the clichéd quiet verse/loud chorus grunge dynamic by holding back the release for later choruses, emphasising the keenly sophisticated melody as a result. ‘Madame Zane,’ conversely, opens proceedings with a dirty, squealy glam punk guitar riff and plays upon roughly the same principle; again, the volume dynamic is used to put stress upon the ultra-melodic ethereal chorus to great effect.
The aforementioned couplet, and a few isolated spots throughout the rest of the CD, sees Angels of Mons in their element, producing instantly-relatable but relatively original grunge-influenced pop. Inexplicably, however, the bulk of the CD is dedicated not to expanding this interesting blueprint, rather to well-written but uninspiring Nirvana knock-offs: ‘Money Shot,’ ‘Sounds’ and ‘Little By Little’ each belong to this less-than-distinguished category- not to mention bands like JJ72 and The Vines have pulled it off more convincingly in recent years. So too would ‘Daria’ were it not for its masterful Sabbathesque breakdown. Musically, mid-album highlight ‘Mardi Gras’ could be lifted directly from Pixies’
Surfer Rosa; Robinson’s wiry, fuzz-soaked guitar lines and Mitchell’s extra-low bass line recall Joey Santiago and Kim Deal respectively, however the singer’s quasi-feminine delivery and Beatlesque chorus add something a little bit different to the mix. Cobain-straddling power pop number ‘Jennifereal’ also boasts a Beatlesy middle eight and a razor-sharp funk falsetto chorus, while ‘Soup Of The Day’ sounds out-of-place but inspired with Ray Davies-aping vocals.
Sadly, like the legend which gave them their name, Angels of Mons were destined for obscurity. The initial excitement which greeted their insurgence began to give way and the band inexplicably fell off the map. Unlike the fictional Angels, Angels of Mons really were onto something with the sound of
Last Of The Dead Empires’ opening tracks- it’s a shame they lapsed so quickly into imitation.
