Here at Crud, whilst we’re hardly expert in the way of Plato’s ponderings or Nietzsche’s intense reflections on existence, nor could we begin to compete with them, we’d like to think that cod-philosophy is still a constituent ingredient of our character. And indeed it should be of anyone who is at least vaguely inquisitive. And we do like Nick Cave an awful lot – he has to count for something, surely. The thing is, as far as we see it, without reason there is nothing. Without rhyme there is even less. If that preposition even holds water. And where exactly would one stand with neither? Think about it, if you want.  The reason for this mind-based twitter is to prepare for the quest to discover Brighton 5-piece My Federation’s. Reason, that is. For they provide a conundrum to which their live show offered few solutions. Is to possess tune (i.e. rhyme) merely to collect musical notes and deliver them in succession of one another? If so, job done. But if the requirement is for those notes is to make some further kind of sense, to be handled in such a way that base competence is out of mind, let alone the core selling point, then we could be on rockier ground (or beach, which is perhaps Brighton’s problem, but we digress…). My Federation’s debut album, just released, ‘Don’t Wanna Die’, at least verges towards an intriguing proposition on paper – over the course of 12 tracks they hedge for a digitised British Invasion pop angle; riffs, harmonies and strutting lifted wholesale from dad’s record collection, disciplined by modern electronic ticker-tape, at its most promising like the Super Furry Animals doing The Who. Which makes the overriding live impression of Delays doing Kula Shaker more deflating that it may have been if we’d encountered it fresh. The fact that they turn out to be such careful performers only highlights the ordinariness of what’s on offer. The earnest harmonies overwhelming the mix and the lead riffs driving the songs are pristine, but boring, which is an appropriate enough wider reflection too. The singer reminds of Ringo Starr (and is about as engrossing) and the guy on wibbly electro knobs and dials, much like his equivalent in Delays, looks awkward and misplaced, but beyond that there is nothing to look at. There is little explanation as to why these people choose to play music together, and to what ends. They find themselves supporting resurgent 80/90’s indie-pop mavericks James tonight and while there could be a stylistic line drawn between the two, the burgeoning character that lifts James in turn slaps My Federation round the face and leaves them looking more than a little flaccid. No sense of a soul, no poetry or meaning to their trite lyrics which merely exist to fill a hole and complete a formula, no reason and ultimately no rhyme.
    Relevant sites:
http://www.myspace.com/myfederation
Report by James Berry for Crud Magazine 2008©
|
