It’s not like they care anyway…they’re too busy being young.
Jerome Blakeney 2007
Let’s get one thing straight: The Pigeon Detectives have not got one original bone in their collective bodies. Three chord riffarama, crunching drums under lyrics about splitting up with your girlfriend. So what? Yet why is it that I find myself liking Wait For Me?
Two things may explain my lapse in taste. One: No one ever said rock ‘n’ roll had to be original or groundbreaking. I bet if you asked any of the sweaty, stage-diving 17-year olds pictured on the inside of the CD sleeve they wouldn’t give a toss. Two: The band’s dynamics undeniably kick ass. Damn it.
Yes, their sound is a ragbag of stuff hawked from the Beatles (“Caught In Your Trap”) to the Strokes (the intro to “Romantic Type” could easily result in law suits from the Big Apple). And the lyrics? Don’t make me laugh. This is sub-caveman stuff, rarely raising itself above beery teenage angst; a bit like overhearing a conversation on the school bus (in fact the single, “I’m Not Sorry”, verges on the offensive, but let’s not go there…). But when the last power chord dies away you feel yourself grinning at the sheer unrepentant dumbness of it all. Not really in a Ramones way, more like a McFly with balls way.
So just don’t expect anything profound from The Pigeon Detectives. With such an innate grasp of what makes rock fun they may - in ten years time, when they’ve got all those hormonal issues out of the way - start writing something enduring. It’s not like they care anyway…they’re too busy being young.