Flashbacks
Whether during puberty or when nearing 30; break-ups are defining moments in life and Flashbacks sounds like The Lodger has taken this one hard. The Leeds-based quartet's third long-player may as well have been written, produced and recorded in front-man Ben Siddall's bedroom as he deals with the despair. Yet for an album that is supposed to be a slow-burner, opening track 'The Back Of My Mind' begins emphatically. Incessant acoustic guitar rattles and shakes into life leaving lead-singer Siddall to moan echoing vocals more as a trail than a lead. The effect almost sounds Doves-esque with the emphasis on a pounding rhythm for swagger rather than plus points for style, even the repetitive couplets add to the inherent simplistic power. 'Have A Little Faith In People' fully bears weight from the extra orchestral elements with a brass section lending an interrupting splendour at the most opportune moments. Indeed, Siddall sounds far more comfortable singing the upbeat lyrics yet if his voice provides enthusiasm, it lacks a punch.
Patience is key for 'Time To Wait' with an almost jazz-esque laziness inherent in the rhythm guitar and the comforting backing vocals. Verses flows into one another only punctuated by a funky, improvised chorus which go some way to mask the threatening lyrics. After the joviality is the comedown of 'The End Of The Affair' which does exactly as it says on the tin; sombre, longing vocals accompanied by soothing strings. But wait, that sneaky rhythm guitar returns and Siddall even changes his vocal tack to an almost hostile tone to match the narrative. The title track prolongs the sobriety with apologetic guitar strains and regimented drumming until Siddall lifts the track with his passionate but laboured vocals.
'Welcome To My World' epitomises just how weak the eventual sound is as when Siddall reaches the high notes they linger instead of compel. The track clearly necessitates stronger backing and a shift from limp acoustics to meaningful force. The album reaches a nadir during 'Lost' when you can easily imagine Siddall sobbing in a bedroom to the grave violin strains. When the track finally gets going a strange refrain of synths bring an uncomfortable 80's electronica tone which is both soothing and surprising. Again, the lyrics are far too cynical and strong-willed when played out to such a temperate noise.
In direct contrast, 'Nothing's Impossible' seems to match ebullient lyrics with a high tempo, almost dancehall backing. Siddall may still be pining for the girl who has left him but at least here he sounds to be doing something other than moping. Hope flows throughout with notions of movement and clocks ticking along whilst keyboards lend impertinence to effervescent percussion.
Drums and solitary piano give 'Stand Up!' a building, marching tone but when the refrains need to hit that climax, the acoustics fall flat. The lyrics could be aimed at the track itself; 'You're always in the shadows of a very sunny day. Everybody's talking but you've got nothing to say. Why are you so shy, won't you come out to play?'. Evidently, only a weak rhythm guitar supports Siddall when he should have the orchestral arrangements behind him. Production values can be to blame as when left instrumental, the percussion seems to work against each other rather than escort.
Closing track 'Running Back Home To You' at least leaves the album on a well-natured, wistful note. As a fitting finale, Siddall sways between threatening and encouraging tones as he depicts falling head first into love, only for it all to end in tears.