This cheeeky Britpop trio had morphed into a truly world class band.
Jerome Blakeney 2009
Oxfordshire's finest sons (after Radiohead) finally grew up with this album. Perhaps the clue was in the title: eponymity equalling a desire to drop the teenage jokery and start turning all that growing up they'd been doing after several years touring, into music of quality.
There is a certain lethargy to some of the tracks, where intros last for eons (as on, um...Eons) and don't quite resolve themselves. You get the idea that the result of getting it together in the country retreat of Cormills studio in Wales has resulted in a little too much herbal refreshment.
Yet there was at least a sufficient amount of top tunes to keep you convinced that the band knew exactly where they were going.
Opener Moving is a wonderful sweep of English whimsy, drifting into a bruising stomp at exactly the right place, and Your Love and Shotover Hill are easily its equal. There was even room for the japes on numbers like Jesus Came From Outer Space and Pumping (or ''humping'' as they slyly sing in the intro) On Your Stereo (the album's first hit). The real understated gem came at the end with Mama And Papa: a heartbreaking ode to childhood.
It wasn't all wonderful news though. Too many reviewers concentrated on the rather tired vibe effusing the whole album, mistaking weariness for laziness. What Supergrass really represents is the consolidation of what In It For The Money had dared to let us dream: that this cheeeky Britpop trio had morphed into a truly world class band.