The Boo Radleys : In Spite Of Everything

The Boo Radleys 

In Spite Of Everything

(Boostr Records)

LP | CD |  2CD | DL

Out now

The Boo Radleys’ ninth album In Spite Of Everything is a hook-ridden collection of new songs which deal variously with themes of tragic loss, grieving, fractured friendships and betrayal but still comes up triumphant and resolute (melodically speaking that is) as its title attests. Martin Gray takes another delve into its multi-hued depths and finds that the killer tunes remain intact.

Say what you like about the former Wirral schoolfriends-turned-unlikely-mid-90’s-popstars The Boo Radleys, and how, in the eyes of some, they’ve been all but undeservedly banished to the mists of time and thought of as ‘also-rans’ from the shoegaze era. Many of us would aver otherwise, because, as wisdom would always dictate, such a dismissive viewpoint is a load of short-sighted, unadulterated bollocks.

A likely reason why the Boos – circa as of now – have fallen off the critical radar relatively speaking is because they have opted to continue afresh after a two decade hiatus sans original visionary and songwriter / close band mate Martin Carr (who is actually doing very well in his own prolific solo ventures I have you know!), which to some of the detractors and deserters, amounts to a sort of heinous betrayal. There may well be a sector of that fanbase who have chosen to view the band’s post-2020 output with relative indifference because of this, but that would be doing the remaining trio of Sice Rowbottom, Tim Brown and Rob Cieka (augmented with live personnel Louis Smith and Nick Etwell) an unjust disservice.

So it might come as a surprise to those detractors that, since their first ‘comeback’ album of 2022 Keep On With Falling and continuing into 2023’s more stylistically expansive and ambitious eighth album (titled, yup, you guessed, Eight), The Boo Radleys’ songwriting prowess is actually in pretty rude health. And so it remains … like it’s never ever really gone away.

Their recently released ninth album In Spite Of Everything shows the band at their most irrepressible, defiant, resolute and – here’s the important bit – mature and melodically ebullient. If anything, the bright and often dense arrangements on here, coupled with the nagging hooks which permeate so many of the songs, belie the extremely trying and challenging circumstances which the band found themselves under before and during its conception and recording.

Album opener Affected/Rejected bursts in with purpose, riding on a welcomingly scuzzy wave of fuzz guitars (whose riff bizarrely recalls an octave-lowered take on the synthesised panpipe motif from China Crisis’s 1985 hit single King In A Catholic Style) and treated vocals. Its shape-shifting psych-rock structure infused with noisy outbursts also harks back to some of the more frazzled textures of their mid-90s masterwork C’mon Kids, with words that pick at betrayal and deceit – lyrical tropes that figure quite prominently on the album (and as polarised from some of their sunkissed bittersweet pop moments of 1995’s Wake Up! era as it is possible to get).

These more downbeat themes are further explored on the ensuing track (and first album trailer) Solarcide, which sits atop a galloping rhythmic undercarriage with Sice proclaiming that ‘Love speaks the truth / I’m only the jury for the ones who shamed you’. As with the opening track there’s a lot of background effects going on here making for a particularly dense production that suggests The Boo Radleys haven’t yet totally relinquished their knack for coating the sweetest of vocal melodies in all kinds of discordant and unsettling noises (well it is their sonic trademark even after all these years you have to remember!).

Intriguingly, both of these opening tracks would have sat perfectly at home on any of their previous albums that still featured their original guitarist and songwriter Martin Carr.

Do Better, Know Better has a slightly less claustrophobic sound and leans towards more outwardly art-pop sensibilities courtesy of the kooky backing vocals and a comparatively spacious loose-limbed arrangement which culminates in a singalong refrain by the end.  By contrast, Hey, I Know presents a wonderful dichotomy: a melancholy and swooning slow number with its trip-hop indebted rhythm, ethereal organ swells and a gorgeously languid refrain but by way of complete contrast, it’s countered by a set of seethingly bitter lyrics that clearly suggest the writer is more than a little hacked off with all the lies, deceit and bullshit – so despite Sice’s world-weary and resigned delivery it’s sprinkled with cuss words along with a rising scree of treated guitar feedback that starts to rear its head toward the song’s end, threatening to engulf and defile everything before it fades off into the distance with the drum beat.

Second album trailer (i.e. single) Living Is Easy sees the Boos casting a reflective and not so nostalgic eye over each generational decade from the 1960s to the present in turn and trying to make sense of the bleak socio-political events and procession of zeroes and villains, and putting these into context against the traumatic events of recent loss and bereavement (specifically the devastating and unexpected passing of Tim Brown’s eldest son Niall – the main inspiration behind this song). Each scenario concludes on a similar note of resigned helplessness ‘What do I have / Nothing at all…. What do I know? / Nothing at all…. What could I do?/ Nothing at all….’ thus compounding the sense of abject futility. It’s a heart-rending rumination but the track’s more measured tempo and poppy arrangement at least lends a bit of tonal light and shade to the otherwise gloomy sentiments.

A song about a friend’s budgie (King Budgie) would seem like a rather trite and twee subject to tackle in song, but here Sice’s ode to the aforementioned feathered friend is full of earnest warmth and a genuine sense of hope and optimism and provides a moment of lighter relief on the album where pretty much everything that came before was steeped in sadness, regret and feelings of loss and yearning. Things get more reflective still on Through The Crack In The Window – the most beautiful moment on here with its understated baroque arrangement and more poetic lamentation set amid fleeting spectral keyboards (with a complete absence of guitars), and yet inexplicably at 2.43 minutes its duration is all too brief.

By total contrast, the album’s most exquisitely uptempo pop moment immediately follows. Issued as the third ‘trailer single’, the brisk-paced Bring Them Back Again is a genuine earworm and by far the most addictive and infectious track on here. In places it’s reminiscent of fellow Merseyside tunesmiths Ian Broudie’s The Lightning Seeds – with its massed backing vocals of ‘rain rain rain’ that hark back to the band at their most shamelessly commercial (1995’s Wake Up) and actually comes across like a complete pop symphony with so many little parts all vying for space across its four-and-a-half minutes duration. There’s even a harmonic acappella breakdown section towards the end for good measure.

This Is The Place is the sort of thing that only a band like the Boos can pull off with ease – one of those tracks that crams on almost everything but still leaves room for the vocals to soar above it all, whilst the following two tracks close the album on a far more doleful and reflective note. The doleful, droning lament, Song For Natalie is a moving eulogy and tribute to a departed friend made all the more weighty and sad by its deceptive simplicity and repeated lyric of ‘One year and one day, you left us alone, you’ve gone away / When I think of you my heart breaks.’ It’s the one track on here that sounds almost unrecognisable as that of The Boo Radleys.

Album closer Wasn’t I Enough? bookends proceedings with the return of the fuzzy belligerent guitar maelstrom which go some way towards emphasising the hurt laid bare in the words that deal with the bitterly disorientating aftermath of a disintegrating relationship. The relentless drum attack and deep-distorted bass propels the track along with a keening sense of urgency and gives this track a decidedly woozy and darkly oppressive vibe, amplified further by the menacing squalls of feedback.

Throughout the album, the recurring themes are reflections on loss, grieving, the passing of time, self-discipline and self-control in the face of life’s ever-present and prevailing challenges. The words are as naked and bare and confessional as they come, and given Sice Rowbottom’s established main vocation as a professional psychologist (and indeed Tim Brown’s as a school teacher), it puts everything into stark relief.

And yet, somehow, against all these odds and how – especially during these last few years – life has been throwing these sickening curveballs at us all on a regular basis, to the point where we are questioning whether humanity really has now irreparably lost its collective moral compass, The Boo Radleys have still managed to come up with another strong album crammed with undoubtedly sparkling highlights that adeptly illustrate that where there is tragedy and adversity, there is still plentiful opportunities for creating life-affirming moments by way of redress.

In a parallel universe, In Spite Of It All should deservedly be another top ten album, but as ever, those who have chosen to close their ears to the band can stay forever ignorant and oblivious. The rest of us, on the other hand, will continue to welcome them back warmly like old friends.

Purchase LP or CD and bundle formats of the album from here

Purchase digital copy of In Spite Of Everything from Bandcamp

Album review by Martin Gray
Other articles can be found on his profile