Recorded in one take in front of 300 fans, the bravery and proficiency of The Brute Chorus’ self titled debut calls for respect. It’s a shame then that the songs let them down. They are by no means poorly arranged or played, in fact quite the opposite, it’s just almost the half the dozen songs sound all too similar with a frantically strummed acoustic guitar and a thumping bass drum.
There’s touch of the Flogging Molly about them in their folk-rockish flourishes and Talking Heads, The Zutons, Jamie T, The Kooks and The Hoosiers at various points in their very slightly off-kilter guitar pop while the singer, James Steel, sounds like a little The Cure’s Robert Smith, which could go some way to explaining why The Brute Chorus sound quite so indistinguishable. With such a wide range of sounds hinted at, there’s a distinct lack discernible identity of their own.

Album opener Hercules offers quirky guitars, Grow Fins throws up some mildly exciting exuberance a la Guillemots and there’s a cluster of songs around two thirds of the way into the album that show all is not lost.

However, many songs are missing a kick of emotive power, there’s very little to raise the heartbeat or pull on the heartstrings. Eighth track The Cuckoo & The Stolen Heart is the one that stands up and make itself heard over the homogenous folk inflected pop rock that surrounds it but even then it’s simply the addition of female vocals that adds anything different.

What lets this debut album down is its pace. It feels much, much longer than the 48 minutes or so that it actually lasts. Songs, despite being a reasonably speedy tempo, drag on. The musicianship is good, the lyrics are pretty inventive, it just struggles to do anything of any real note. There’s no spark.

By Stephen Milnes