This is a likeable but underwhelming album: Coldplay won't lose any sleep.
Thomas Barlow 2008
With the likes of Radiohead and Sir Paul departing for fresh pastures, meet EMI's newest hopefuls, The Corrections. Sure enough, the London-based young guns make earnest, guitar-driven indie rock; radio-friendly enough to get a piece of mainstream action like labelmates Coldplay, but an edgy, intense listen nonetheless.
The five-piece are co-led by vocalist, Joe Winter and guitar slinging brother, Matt. The former's intensely wrought vocals, along with the strident guitar riffs and assertive drumming recall The Manic Street Preachers, with added splashes of Radiohead angst and Primal Scream-style energy. They're a listenable outfit with an appetite for rock anthems, but scant original identity.
For proof, try the opener, This Voice Is Not My Voice; a showpiece with pumping drums, guitars and the repeated hook, "If your heart won't listen to your head/ You might as well be dead". And this is one of their strongest tracks.
Elsewhere, their second single, OCD, is equally brash and widescreen; inoffensively unoriginal, with Joe Winter's emotive alto soaring above strummy guitars and rigid drum beats.
The album never veers too far away from this samey dynamic. Barcode, another single, provides further evidence, warning us about totalitarianism over thumpy drums and energetic wah-wahs. Only The Wind Is Wind sees the band lighten up and offer something more personal. This is a likeable but underwhelming album: Coldplay won't lose any sleep.