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Album Review
Smokers Die Younger Smokers Die Youngers/r
Article written by
Matt H - Sep 22, 2009
Smokers Die Younger - won't be booking that cheap package again
In reviewing their single Sketchpads, we might just have accused Smokers Die Younger of being less than productive. The truth is that the songs that make up this album have been around for getting on a year for those willing to seek them out on lastfm or the like. Even now finances see them getting only an iTunes release, but damn do they sound good.
They’re far from an easy band to classify. Even when they sound like indie rock they sound like indie rock in a parallel universe where the rules are subtly, but significantly, different. Sketchpads is lovely and jaunty until it wanders off a couple of times into slowed down wibbling. To good effect mind. Superb opener Youth Map starts with a shuddering synth overlaid by James Goldthorpe’s yelping lead and augmented by multifarious vocal contributions and anthemic leanings. So far so Arcade Fire. But there’s something different going on. Rather than a verse chorus verse build, it’s something of an episodic affair moving on and sometimes back through a range of themes.
There’s all sorts of other stuff going on elsewhere too. Drinking Song is agitprop folk shorn of overt politics, its stouthearted vocals interweaving in a round over a twang and single synth chord backing and a sparing violin. Off-centre folk echoes too through the mid-section of Red Rum, in almost mediaeval harmonising, which might seem an odd claim - but somehow works sandwiched between a shouty opening and the crunching riffs of its, and the album’s, abrupt ending. It’s not alone - the rhythms of the lovely Holler If You Hear Me are almost courtly. I’ve not even got around to some of the album’s highlights yet. The pensive Bad Driving Too generates a swirling post-rock atmosphere. Telemark makes great use of Amy Dutronc’s voice (er, I think - am operating without credits) to craft a great heartbuster of a pop song. And Knives is a lilting, tumbling, arms-thrown-wide belter undercut with yet more violin reminding you of nothing less than Will Oldham’s most expansive efforts.
With most of the sometimes irritating self-reflexion and loose seams from their first album cut away and tightened, what you have left is magnificent collection of crafted, off-kilter songs that fit no known mould. It’s something of a travesty that they sneak out without fanfare or physical form, but the only way to remedy that is to go out and buy ‘em, however intangible. You’ll be getting the best end of the deal still.