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Graham Coxon
Love Travels At Illegal Speeds
Parlophone
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Article
written by Hattie N
Mar 5, 2006.
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Love Travels At Illegal Speeds is a pretty damn good name for an album if you think about it. You can never go wrong with a bit of love, adding a notion of illegality to the mix ticks the rock n’ roll rebellion factor box and it’s deep enough to allow those with a philosophical nature to ponder any hidden meaning whilst being straightforward enough for even the most basic Jet fan to “get” it on some level. Admittedly not as fantabulous as Happiness In Magazines, Coxon’s last effort, but then about a million times better then Think Tank, Blur’s most recent record. Oh yes, the B word. Well it had to come up somewhere in this review, so we may as well get it out the way as soon as possible.
Unfortunately for Coxon, he’ll probably never move out of the shadow of his former band. As competent as his records have become, he doesn’t seem able to quite reach the lofty heights which would allow him to truly establish himself as a solo artist. Take single and opening track Standing On My Own Again: a very decent and crucially radio-friendly effort, but ultimately forgettable. It displays Coxon’s excellent knack for producing disposable pop punk, but also how he struggles to make the listener really care about any of it. The simplicity of anthem for snubbed lovers What’s He Got is endearing, but holds it back from being anything particularly special. Furthermore, unremarkable tracks like I Can’t Look At Your Skin, Don’t Let You Man Know and Gimme Some Love tend to merge into a big over-excited mess of guitar riffs and shouty vocals: a glorious mess yes, but one that soon becomes wearing. There are respites from the high octane attack which constitutes most of the album though: the slower Just A State Of Mind, closer See A Better Day and especially Flights To The Sea (Lovely Rain) provide a welcome element of melodic reflection and even something approaching elegance.
Love Travels At Illegal Speeds is good fun, and there’s really nothing wrong with that. But beyond its sugary and unchallenging outer coat lies…well not a lot. Besides, Coxon’s tendency to sound like a grumpy thirteen year-old fronting a crappy school punk band is rarely less than irritating. It’s an album to enjoy, but not one to love, and definitely not at speeds which run the risk of breaking the law. Still a cracking title then, but one that, in relation to this record at least, is a bit misleading.
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