24-7 Rockstar Shit

With a snarl on their lisp, drums set to bash and guitars red-lining all the way, snotty new Cribs anthems such as "Year Of Hate" and "Partisan" shine within Albini's typical sonic verite approach to recording. [No. 145, p.53]

Having made records with Johnny Marr and added all manner of elements to their sound, the band’s latest is a brilliant reminder that Ryan, Gary and Ross are at their most powerful when they strip back their sound to its scrappy core.

Even by their own standards, the lack of posing or pretence on this LP is startling; it’s a raw, bare-bones affair with nothing in the way of embellishment.

24-7 Rock Shit might just be another slap in the face to those claiming the downfall of rock music. But less talking and more listening.

There are poppy moments--the churning "What Have You Done For Me," and deceptively tranquil "Dead At The Wheel"--but otherwise the Jarman brothers have restrained their more melodic instincts to create sludgy monsters like "Year Of Hate" and storming closer "Broken Arrow." [Oct 2017, p.26]

While it doesn't feel quite as honed as some of the Cribs' other albums, 24-7 Rock Star Shit is a lot of fun, as well as more proof that the band's eternal tug of war between grit and polish still generates excitement.

24-7 falters when it tries anything except balls-to-the-wall, though.

This back-to-basics flipside to 2015’s poppy For All My Sisters has little to offer those not already positively disposed towards the Cribs’ basics--mordant lyrics, tetanus-jab guitars and raucous woah-ohh-ohh choruses--but the likes of Dendrophobia, with its haywire licks and raw scream of “we can’t afford each other”, and In Your Palace have an irresistible energy.

The droll title of their seventh album, 24-7 Rock Star Shit, neatly brings these tropes together, but it’s also a record that proves that the band’s reluctance to be swayed by fame and fashion can seem like stasis: Jarman’s whiny, distinctively-accented vocal and the loose, lo-fi guitar rock (invariably heralded by a blizzard of feedback) are the ingredients in a recipe that has barely changed in a decade.

The results are patchy. [Sep 2017, p.92]

Despite the gentle, plaintive Sticks Not Twigs and the lugubrious Dead At The Wheel, it's Albini in excelsis: a super-fast, super-loud cathartic howl, but this being The Cribs, it's leavened by their trademark way with a manly melody. [Sep 2017, p.106]