The Concretes (Licking Fingers, Sweden) 9+
In a better world, top 40 radio would have bands like The Concretes holding their own against Britney, Christina and Pink. The Concretes are three teenage girls from Stockholm who didn’t know how to play formed a band. After making some musical progress they added some blocks, three boys to flesh out their sound. The septet recorded two records, which were later released as Boyoubetterunow in 2000. Inspired by Phil Spector’s wall-of-sound productions, particularly sixties girlgroup The Ronettes, and The Velvet Underground, the grossly underexposed album was full of charming, pretty pop. For the self-titled follow-up they expand to ten (or more) members and take a giant leap in development, revealing the band as the most accomplished self-taught, women-lead unit since The Raincoats. It’s not just that the playing, songwriting and production are nearly perfect. It’s one of those special albums that you never lose or sell because certain songs become permanently entwined into your life, attaching themselves like barnacles to memories of first kisses, clandestine trips and last goodbyes. Which particular songs evoke that kind of magic depends on the listener, but there are literally no duds here. The melodic songs are undeniably accessible, evoking the gauzy, country-folk seductiveness of Mazzy Star and the tambourine-shaking fuzziness of The Jesus & Mary Chain, morphed into their unique signature sound but not quite breaking ground. Choruses swell (with rising star Nicolai Dunger contributing backing vocals), horns swoop, organs wheeze, strings tickle, and gigantic cartoon bumblebees fly straight out of (Mercury Rev/Flaming Lips) Dave Fridmann’s bonnet (he didn’t produce it, but probably dreamt he did). Opener “Say Something New” builds up to celebratory heights that might inspire geezers in Mercury Rev and Spiritualized to take notes. “You Can’t Hurry Love” isn’t the Supremes classic, but its hook nearly rivals it. “New Friend” sounds like a long-lost VU tune written for Nico. Meet Victoria Bergsman, who’s every bit as deep as Nico, but possessed with a truthful simplicity that invites rather than repels. “Diana Ross” is another highlight, a marching salute to Motown soul and love hangovers, sung in an adorable accent that stays far from the threshold of gratingly precious. “Warm Night” swings in waltz time to a gorgeous mandolin backing and choruses, the women contributing spine-tingling “oohs” and “ahhs.” “Seems Fine” is the most uptempo tune with fittingly catchy hooks. Perhaps it’ll be a hit in 2005 when people finally find this album. “Lovin Kind” is another melodic, swaying love song that’s leagues above the sentimental mush of Coldplay. “Lonely As Can Be” starts to sound a little too familiar, but is revived by a brilliantly prickly guitar solo. The elegiac “This One’s For You” tops off the album like lightly whipped cream, as sparkling harp and ascending strings evaporate into pixie dust. The Concretes is not a heavy listen, but with absolutely no fattening filler and every song utterly swoonworthy, it’s that much easier to go back to again and again.
