When they began, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club were, frankly, a cross between the Jesus And Mary Chain. Twelve years and seven albums later they’ve expanded their brief considerably, but they still remain true to their origins (and their splendid Wild Ones name).
BRMC are leather-clad moody rock, fond of relentless riffs and lyrics that are the aural equivalent of an Elvis Presley pout. Specter At The Feast – more about doominess than about Phil the producer spoiling a banquet – is no exception, always consistent and never dull. Titles like Teenage Disease and Hate The Taste suit the Stoogesy grunge of the music, while there’s a broadening of range on Fire Walker and the galloping Let The Day Begin.
In the wake of the death of bassist Robert Been’s father there’s possibly a new reflectivness to this album – Lose Yourself and Returning in particular have a modern maturity equal to Radiohead in their prime. BRMC have transcended a past that was extremely full of the past and arrived in the present.
