Another jewel in the guitar pop dung heap – good work fellas.
Lou Thomas 2008
Someone get The Hoosiers on the phone. This is how cheerful, uncomplicated music is done.
There's nothing fey or particularly introspective about the sixth studio album from Supergrass, the band that Steven Spielberg once coveted for a Monkees-style TV show. It's also true that there’s not a great deal here that's original either, but most listeners would prefer the many brilliant songs on Diamond Hoo Ha to a quadruple album of basoon-based jazz fusion.
Right from the start Diamond Hoo Ha Man crashes in gloriously like a drunken glamour model searching for Calum Best. It's as big and glam as a T.Rex gig at Playboy mansion, and when erstwhile sideburns devotee Gaz Coombes sings, ''When the sun goes down/I just can't resist,'' it's hard to disagree.
From this moment on, aside from the forgettable strains of 345 and The Return Of…, this record is tremendous fun and an instant reminder of just why pop music means so much to so many people.
Day at work left you full of hate? Crucified by love, drugs or both? Stick on Ghost Of A Friend, with its lyrical and vocal Dylan references and beatific harmonies. You'll be thinking of the sunny Californian expanse within minutes, even in your tiny, freezing Brixton flat.
Then there's second single Bad Blood, a nifty, vampiric stomp heavily reminiscent of Iggy and Bowie's best collaborations. Perhaps the influence of Berlin's Hansa studios (the site of the duo's former triumphs and also where this album was made) is stronger than most recording houses.
There's also the Echo And the Bunnymen piano riffs and sharp, looping guitars of Outside, once again augmented by great, wordless harmonies.
It's remarkable that Supergrass still sound like carefree teens despite their increasingly craggy faces. This latest may even inspire new bands to drop the posturing and knuckle down to write immediate, life-affirming tunes like these. Another jewel in the guitar pop dung heap – good work fellas.