It’s been just over ten years now since The Darkness burst through the tightly sewn spandex seams of the rock industry with their over the top début Permission to Land. When comparing the band to other releases at the time, it’s not difficult to see why The Darkness captured the imagination of the public so easily with their glittery catsuits and cock rock reminiscent stage show. Take for example, the heavy electronics in Radiohead’s Hail to the Thief. Even though that album does revisit some of the guitar sounds from Radiohead’s early music, the style is minimalist and understated, introverted, you could even argue. The lyrical themes explore right wing politics and terrorism. It’s a pretty long way from good times rock ‘n’ roll to say the least. Similarly, Muse’s offering Absolution was heavily arranged, the songs bursting with string sections, synthesizers, a multitude of extra vocals and percussion, not to mention the dark lyrical themes. Like Permission to Land, Absolution is undeniable larger than life. But Matt Bellamy takes himself so completely seriously, preaching big ideas of religion and politics. A quick glance at the ‘making of’ video for the album, or indeed any other interviews from the time confirms this, right down to the clip of a straight-faced Dom Howard submerged waist deep in a swimming pool, donning only speedos and a pair of orchestral bass drum beaters. It’s certainly true that in 2003 there wasn’t anything quite as ridiculous available in the mainstream as The Darkness. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the main criticisms of the band; Hawkins unfashionable falsetto, outfit clichés borrowed from Steven Tyler, not to mention Spinal Tap levels of parody, actually served to make the band more popular. Indeed, if Permission to Land hadn’t been such a convincing rock album, it would be easy to dismiss The Darkness as a joke. But, spoiler alert, it’s pretty damn good.
Black Shuck opens at full tilt, the driving guitar riffs accompanying the folklore legend of a devil hound that is said to roam The Darkness’ home town of Suffolk. Hawkins sets the scene with frequent animalistic grunts, gargles and screams. He even narrates part of the story in a seriocomic style reminiscent of Vincent Price. It could so easily be cheesy, but the attention to detail of the musical arrangement tips the balance between frivolous and serious towards the latter, albeit very cheeky at the same time.
Slightly weaker in its conception is ‘Get Your Hands off my Woman’. After a promising tense opening of idling bass guitar followed by an almighty wail from Hawkins, the song kicks into a fairly stock sounding metal riff and doesn’t really shift gear again to keep the interest. Somewhat a filler on the album, this song would be much more at home in a live situation where raucous and sweaty fans can go hoarse together shouting various profanities: ‘You’ve soiled my obsession/ you cunt!’ and ‘Get your hands off my woman, motherfuuuucker!’ It’s all good clean fun.
Growing On Me and I Believe in a Thing Called Love follow the tried and tested formula for commercially successful rock songs. Both boast instantly recognisable chorus hooks and living room air guitar moments. It’s a sound that any of the arena rock giants of the past would envy. The Hawkins brothers’ solos throughout the album are impressively musical and their two pronged lead guitar attack shows a level of sophistication that isn’t always present within this genre.
Permission to Land also boasts a couple of strong power ballads. Love is Only a Feeling is tender and heartfelt. The arrangement is powerful: 12 string acoustic verses help the choruses to have maximum impact. It’s very satisfying. If Love is Only a Feeling shows The Darkness at their most sincere, Holding My Own is quite the opposite. Hawkins sings with tongue in cheek humour of an ending relationship which is a thinly veiled metaphor for masturbation. ‘I don't need your permission/ To take this matter in my own two hands/ 'Cause I'm holding my own’ It’s slightly crass, but still well written and performed and it evokes all the right sentiments of nostalgia in spite of the double meaning.
Givin’ Up is quite a charming little ditty. You could almost listen to the end without noticing that it’s about injecting heroin. Stuck in a Rut briefly returns to the theatrics of Black Shuck and sees Hawkins babbling and cackling. Both songs come off as middling album fillers though they move along at good steering-wheel-tapping tempos.
The Darkness set their standard really high with Permission to Land. Since Hawkins’ clichéd and ultimately inevitable decline into Heroin addiction, they’ve never quite managed to capture the same combination of downright great rock songs and witty lyrics.
No comments:
Post a Comment