Detroit Social Club are not from Detroit. Though their name makes them sound like part of the Motor City Garage Rock Class of ’01 (see: White Stripes, The) they are in fact from Newcastle-upon-Tyne, one of those hyphenated cities in merry England. Now, this sextet has a complex way of describing their sound. They once explained their music as a combination of “the chorus vocals of “Loser” by Beck, with the drums of “Army of Me” by Björk, layered with the guitars of “I’m Bored” by Iggy Pop and the melody of the Beach Boys’ “God Only Knows”.” Whew.
They aren’t totally wrong, either. The sound on their first full-length album can be roughly translated to big guitars, dreamy melodies, and vocals pitched somewhere between Oasis-snotty and Bono-idealistic. Existence is an assemblage of Detroit Social Club’s previously released singles and new material, and though their songwriting capabilities are apparent, the production on the album takes potentially great songs and turns them into overwrought mush.
You can tell exactly where the band wanted to go with this album: grandiose tales of life and love, rugged confessional singing, and the kind of tunes with monosyllabic choruses that are easy for a stadium of concertgoers to ooh and na na na and yeah yeah yeah to. But Jim Abiss’ production (he previously worked with Kasabian and the Arctic Monkeys) gives a majority of the tracks what can be termed “Bittersweet Symphony Syndrome.” “Northern Man,” for example, has the bones of a perfectly decent rock-pop song, with a lovely melody and wistful chords, but the strings laid on top turn a nostalgic song into something weirdly schmaltzy. “Find something to believe then / Find something you can call your own,” sings lead vocalist David Burn as the violins swirl. And damn, it really would be great…minus the swirling violins.
Other songs seem saturated in pseudo-grunge goo, like “Sunshine People,” which mixes a heavy ‘90s guitar part with shouty backup vocals. You get the sense that left to their own devices, Detroit Social Club would be perfectly happy as a straightforward rock band; “Chemistry” displays some earnest vocals and a bass/drum line that chugs along nicely, and first single “Prophecy” maintains a grim tension. “Black & White” is the best track on the disc, memorable for its Black Rebel Motorcycle Club-esque opening and shotgun snare hits, and Burn’s voice sounds nice and gritty when he snarls, “You are nothing without me.” The electronic breakdown at the end seems incongruous, but if that were cut, it’d be a fully cool, modern-sounding rock track.
But Existence can’t have ten “Black & Whites” so instead we get “Silver,” with an inexplicable bongo-laden hip-hop-ish beat and a few tossed-off, half-rapped verses, not to mention the cryptic keyboard squiggles on “Universe.” These extra flourishes are entirely superfluous and get in the way of the song’s sound, rather than enhancing it. My guess is that live and unhampered by daft studio capers, this band is truly crowd-pleasing. These days, every once in a while an English group shows up on our shores and makes everyone freak out (here’s lookin’ at you, Coldplay) but not a lot sticks around for good. If Detroit Social Club can take the energy and feeling they exhibit on this album and eschew the little tricks in production that trip them up here, they have the capacity to break in a big way. So skip the tricks next time—tricks are for kids, and this group is better off staying grown-up.
Track List:
1. Kiss The Sun
2. Northern Man
3. Black & White
4. Chemistry
5. Sunshine People
6. Rivers & Rainbows
7. Silver
8. Prophecy
9. Universe
10. Lights of Life
