God Save the Clientele
As retro-British ‘60s pop aficionados, the Clientele imagine themselves as writers of lovable, obscure b-sides. Rather than aim for the permanent hook and the high-profile chorus of a Merseybeat hit single, they scale down their ambitions to the quieter, darker and quirkier moments where melancholia takes hold. Produced by Nashville producer Mark Nevers of Lambchop, *God Save the Clientele* is the group’s cleanest sounding album. The excessive reverb is virtually M.I.A., yet the group sacrifices none of their trippy haze. “Isn’t Life Strange?” gently advances with its haunting George Harrison *All Things Must Pass* ambience courtesy of Louis Philippe’s string arrangement. “Honorary member,” the Autumn Defense’s Pat Sansone, adds piano, guitars and/or backing vocals to five tracks and his ‘70s AM pop sense does seem to bump these Londoners into the smoother reaches of mellow soft rock (“From Brighton Beach to Santa Monica”). While modest changes have been employed, it’s still Alasdair MacLean’s songwriting and whispery delivery that pulls off the rainy day beauty of a track like “The Queen of Seville.” The piano sprinkles and sweeps of pedal steel just compliment his unerring sense of sorrow.
After two albums, various EPs, and the godlike singles collection Suburban Light, this London band inches away from articulating a rich and complex world informed by magical realism, memory, and the ache of nostalgia toward a new, brighter light, broadened in both sound and outlook.
Sure, indie-rock fans are suckers for good songwriting. But most of the time, an indie band is notable for the way it sounds, long before the words come in. Fans can spot an Arcade Fire song long before Win Butler opens his mouth. Ditto Modest Mouse and The Hold Steady. And that goes double for The Clientele, even…
The Clientele's third full-length LP finds the band riding the wave of beauty and inspiration that made Strange Geometry one of the most impressive records of 2005.
Is there a more British name than Alasdair? Well, apart from all those jokey old names like Cecil or Basil or Eugene, that is.