Nectarine No. 9 - Saint Jack - Albums - Reviews - Soundblab

Nectarine No. 9 - Saint Jack

by Jeff Penczak Rating:5 Release Date:2015-11-30

Heavenly continue their heavy reissue campaign with 20th anniversary edition of the quirky Scottish quartet’s second Postcard album. Like Ed Wood’s notorious Plan 9 From Outer Space, I don’t know what happened to the first eight nectarines, but the ninth is a doozy. Frontman Davy Henderson’s Iggy-meets-Richard Hell vocals are an acquired taste and the band manufacture quite a racket behind him.

The title track is noisy garage rock with some dirty guitar soloing, but the tables and mood are turned on the lazy, reflective ‘Curdled Fragments’, a post-rock, Durruti Columnish instro that does Vini Reilly proud. ’Fading Memory Babe’ is a short guitar instro that probably belongs to another song – here it just sounds like an unfinished pallet cleanser.

           Peter (Only Ones) Perrett’s bored, disinterested delivery surfaces on ‘This Arsehole’s Been Burned Too Many Times Before’, a twangy, semi-country ballad that might also appeal to fans of Shane MacGowan’s Pogues period. Unfortunately, the frustration continues with ‘It’s Not My Baby Putting It Down’, which is a mixed-up, jumbled up collection of sound bytes and drop-ins that The KLF used to better effect for their Chill Out sessions. And if you enjoy contorting to James Chance (or Captain Beefheart, for that matter), you might try cutting a rug to ‘My Trapped Lightning’, but the rest of us will probably end up tripping over our own two left feet.

           The spoken-word spittle masquerading behind a bunch of practice session jamming under the title ‘Just Another Fucked-Up Little Druggy On The Scene’ pretty much sums up the attitudes here: half-baked ideas, stream-of-conscious prattle, syncopated punky guitars, rat-a-tat drums... basically a bunch of lads with too much time and not enough musical ideas on their hands. If they could have done more things like the rather wonderful pop tunes ‘Un-Loaded For You’ or ‘Clipped Wings and Flower Stings’ they’d have something to write home about. But there’s just too much purposeless wanking about to bother waiting for these few gems to roll around.

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