Monday at the Hug & Pint Reviews
Only The Pogues invite more and lazier booze analogies than Arab Strap, so I won't insult your intelligence by forestalling mine: if their career is the musical equivalent of an alcoholic life-- and in all likelihood it is-- Monday at the Hug & Pint is Arab Strap's moment of clarity. It's an album dominated by regret, frustrated reflection and a desire to move forward, the least bullshitting, most accomplished and first consistently great release from Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton.
Arab Strap enjoyed undue praise for their intrinsic gait, their hollow tunes profiting from the same sheepish Anglophilia that made Irvine Welsh and Belle & Sebastian household names in America, where they can barely tell Scots from Cockney. The signature brow beating and bleating dirges still abound, but there's an increased focus on songwriting rather than the moping first-person exposition that typified their first few records. Monday at the Hug & Pint doesn't sound shockingly different from the rest of their catalog, but it's a crystallization of identity and intent; where they once sprawled-- hung over and depressed-- Arab Strap have built on last year's promising, alternately post- and pub-rock The Red Thread, proving they're capable of taking themselves dead seriously.
Listening to their insecure and uneven beginnings-- and ignoring The Red Thread as a bridge-- Monday is an auspicious improvement. Though it's nominally awkward, Depeche Mode's unpredictably great last gasp "Dream On" is an instant comparison with "The Shy Retirer", a string-backed electro-acoustic dance tune with a newly positive nostalgia for the weekend's pints. Genius lyrics abound-- "You know I'm always moanin'/ But you jumpstart my serotonin," and the somewhat infamous existential metaphor "this cunted circus never ends"-- but just as the Matt Johnson (approaching Bono) croon of "Meanwhile at the Bar a Drunkard Muses" forecasts another barely conscious record of surly, sad-sack balladry (and skirts covering Ryan Adams' "Come Pick Me Up"), "Fucking Little Bastards" smashes the accepted idea of Arab Strap to bits.
Sounding at first like the Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds' rendition of "All Tomorrow's Parties", "Fucking Little Bastards" cuts quickly into an overloaded post-rock, post-shoegaze dirge, its cinematic angst underscoring not only that Aidan and Malcolm have been spending a lot of time with Mogwai, but also that violinists Stacey Sievwright and Jenny Reeve have doubled the import of Arab Strap's maudlin work. The duo's "fuck it" experimentalism remains intact, tacked on in a closing minute-plus of collapsing loops and telephoned vocals that could have gone on forever as far as I'm concerned.
Returning to the acoustic dance sound that's earned the group its audience, "Flirt" fails to make the same impression as the record's opener, mostly because the vocals never dig any hooks in, syncopating with a beat too slow to warrant such interplay. After another typically Strap ballad-- "Who Named the Days"-- my hopes faded. In the age of compact discs, it's very difficult to give a record the feel of having two sides, let alone convince a listener there's hope for something better around the bend. Sigur Rós recently managed it, and Arab Strap one-up them with the dividing "Loch Leven", a tune that's structurally typical of the band, but rises above the shirking, impatient post-rock folk of old in its more deliberate craft and inspired performance.
It's done one better by "Act of War", where the strings (and horns!) lift into a hitherto unimaginable aggression-- "The fact is you've always been clumsy!"-- possibly due to the involvement of Bright Eyes' Conor Oberst and Mike Mogis, who worked with Moffat and Middleton on much of the record (as did Mogwai's Barry Burns). "Serenade" introduces liberal studio layering, overloading reverb, organ and strings and invoking everyone from The Smiths ("Rubber Ring") to Sparks ("I only go for girls I've got no chance with"). Pinpoint samples of bottle rockets whizzing around add space, inferring that the night's gone on perhaps too long and spilled out onto the lawn. The album ends with a somewhat repetitive appendix ("Pica Luna"), missing the perfect parting shot, a rousing piano sing-along named after their first record.
Though it's just forty-five minutes long, Arab Strap make Monday at the Hug & Pint feel like an eternity-- just like everything else in their catalog. While that was an unbearable aspect of their less considered youth, these days Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton are taking pints slowly, thinking before they speak. The girls go for a sharp wit when it's doled out in good measure and offset by sensitivity; with any luck, these two won't be reaching for the Arab Strap this weekend.
8.7/10 | Chris Ott | pitchforkmedia
Arab Strap's Aidan Moffat is that friend you inevitably end up calling whenever you've stumbled upon some terrible luck in your personal life. His company is ideal at times like this for no matter how badly you were treated by that special someone, you simple know that Aidan's had it worse. Knowing that, you'll call him up, and you'll both cruise down to your favorite local bar for as many pints as it needs to clear the air. Without fail, you'll finish your story only to be greeted with one that starts with, "Well, at least you didn't have it as bad as I did with X," and you will both stumble home pleasantly buzzed and feeling better over your respective situations. This exact sort of gift is what Aidan Moffat has been bringing directly into Arab Strap's music ever since 1998. With their output starting with that year's Philophobia there has been a pleasant circular pattern-no matter how many times you listen to the songs and what the exact topic of that tune is about (be it deception, alcohol, bad sex, longing or any combination thereof), the second they're over you feel as if you've just then truly heard them for the first time. Their latest release, Monday at the Hug and Pint, expands on the band's previous efforts and makes for an excellent record.
Philophobia still stands as the band's best studio moment to date, but Monday at the Hug and Pint comes in a very solid second place. It is an extremely cohesive album, one that marks a band that is constantly trying to grow and expand their sound. Philophobia demonstrated the band's need to nail out narrative tales of bad love over Malcom Middleton's wonderfully intricate guitar and drum machine textures. From time to time additional instruments, including live drums, would drift through the mix, but the overall sound was consistently somewhat muted and understated, as if it was an effort to keep the listener raptly attuned to Moffat's largely spoken delivery. Their next release, Elephant Shoe, increased the level of musicianship present, but didn't really have the same impact as the prior album. 2001 saw the release of The Red Thread and the band continued to make the music possess more immediacy as well as have tracks featuring wildly different styles (rock, beat-driven club music, soft acoustic numbers). While both of these successor albums had several standout tracks and stood up well independently, both of them were missing a little bit of the magic that made Philophobia work so well. This is where Monday at the Hug and Pint succeeds-it has taken all of the various types of songs that the band has approached over the last few albums and brought them together as a well-assembled whole.
"The Shy Retirer" starts the album off with a bang and is probably the best of the album's up-tempo tracks. Moffat speak-sings through a tale of a hard night spent clubbing, popping pills, and regrets that follow afterwards. Strings provide an excellent accent to the straightforward rhythm and guitar. Following along, the album contains several other tracks that display faster material. "Fucking Little Bastards" immediately pounds its way to the front of the listener's attention with its anger, banging drums and distortion-drenched electric guitar and almost dares you to try to let it escape from a prominent place in your mind. A definite keeper. "Flirt" might be the album's closest thing to a traditional rock song and it excels in that role. Each of these faster songs builds upon the foundation that the band laid with prior material (see "Love Detective", "Turbulence" and "Screaming In the Trees"), bringing in more life and perfecting the formula.
It's the slower songs where this album really excels. The aptly titled "Meanwhile, at the Bar, a Drunkard Muses" stands prepared to become one of the better songs in the band's entire catalog. It wonderfully sums up everything the band has been trying to do over the last few years. "Who Named the Days?" is also presented nicely. It's a stark and low-key affair that is a little louder and more elaborate than the stripped version that appeared on last year's "Quiet Violence" EP. It is a great song that lends quite a bit to the album's overall atmosphere. "Serenade" appears near the album's end is the album's best track. Moffat's narrator describes at length all of the grand plans he has concocted to demonstrate his affection for a special someone, only to cap it all off with the matter-of-fact statement that he only has eyes for "girls I've got no chance with". It's brutal, but executed perfectly.
Despite excelling in so many way, there are two minor missteps on Monday at the Hug and Pint, the first of these is the intro to "Loch Leven", a needless mish-mash of bagpipe and pouring rain samples. Cutting to the chase and having the album move straight from "Who Named the Days?" directly into "Loch Leven" would have created a better flow. The only less-than-great song is "Act of War". Moffet's usually dead-on lyrics trip up and stoop to almost being trite with such lines as "our new hard hardwood floor was our battlefield / and the bullets must have been our tears." Ouch.
Arab Strap's music is a bit of an acquired taste, but one that is always rewarding once it has been acquired. There is a requisite level of cynicism that any devoted listener has to possess. Beyond that, there's something here that anyone with a truly open mind should find engaging. It's dark stuff, but so are some aspects of relationships. Moffet and Middleton continue to grow as artists and this album is the proof that they can do just that while also crafting a wonderfully consistent listen. Monday at the Hug and Pint is the great album that Arab Strap fans deserve as well as a great introduction point to anyone not familiar with their brand of sex, booze and melancholy.
10/12 | Cory Rayborn | www.fakejazz.com