On their debut record WA three-piece The Chemist inhabit a sequestered station of existential duress where they explore bluesy demons with corporeal clarity. The production is controlled and forthright, which gives luring force to the swampy rock songs. When The Chemist strike into more upright rock territory, such as in the fiery Stripped Paint, it can feel a little strained, but for the most part they employ a swaggering pace, which optimally portrays a uniquely bent perspective.
Album highlight Spray Paint Or Praise discusses material saturation and being unfulfilled by transient experiences. The vocal explanation “My hands are full but the world just keeps on giving,” leads into the repeated refrain “I just don’t feel a thing!” indicating a struggle to find any genuine affinity with worldly objects. When the early summation “I need something to which I can cling,” is later supplanted by “I need something to which I can drink,” it seems to imply that getting on the bottle is a remedial necessity in order to forget one’s apathetic predicament.
The Chemist easily slot in next to certain insidious artists from across the Pacific; opener Heaven’s Got A Dress Code is a Cold War Kids-like expression of trying to make good midst unfair rejection, and the way the subtle delivery of Nails In Mud creates tremulous sensations is akin to The Walkmen. Elsewhere the comparisons can be drawn closer to home; Benjamin Witt’s plaintive vocal in Sad Eyes resembles Augie March’s Glenn Richards and the wicked guitar riff that kicks off Strings Lickin’ Limbs recalls The Drones’ modal transgressions. But more than simply being a re-interpretation of their forebears, either at home or abroad, the album is an assertive propagation of honest and intelligent songcraft.
BY AUGUSTUS WELBY
Best Track: Spray Paint Or Praise
If You Like These You’ll Like This: Kicking Against The Pricks NICK CAVE & THE BAD SEEDS, Here Comes The Sun NINA SIMONE, The Age of the Understatement LAST SHADOW PUPPETS
In A Word: Derailed
