I saw someone on Twitter do that thing people do. “Listening to George Michael, Careless Whisper” it said “massive guilty pleasure. Don’t @ me.”
Each to their own, of course, and you are entitled to express yourself in any way you choose, but I have a different opinion. There are two sorts of music. That’s good and bad. Guilty pleasures? Behave! I like Busted. I own Tiffany’s first album, and I genuinely and completely mean the next sentence on this review: I believe Chas and Dave to be some of the finest songwriters this country has ever produced.
The Chas and Dave thing is kind of important, here as much as anything. As it was because I like Chas and Dave so much that I got to looking for bands that did something close. I found Buster Shuffle a few years ago, and I have to be totally honest and say that whilst I could never say that I’m a Ska fan generally, there’s a roguish, kind of knees up in a cockney boozer feel about this that you just cannot ignore or resist.
“Our Night Out” is the debut record from the Buster boys, and it is like a proto version of their sound. Youthfully enthusiastic, wide-eyed, full of fun and wonder. All with that barrel piano that just is infectious.
The title track kind of sets the tone. Boozy nights out, youthful indiscretions. But there’s an innocence. “I didn’t know,” says Jet Baker “that it was your little brother that was dancing with you,” and there’s something so sweet about the whole thing.
“Me, Myself And I” is as jaunty as a song about not going home gets, and “At The Bank” might well be written from experience, and sees him hiding who he is from his workmates.
It’s the cleverness, the delivery, the lyrical wordplay, that shines through, though. Even here. And the ability to write a hook, even on the sad ones like “I’ll Get My Coat”. It’s like Frank Turner jamming in the Nag’s Head.
The sweet tale of love that is “I Am In To You” will strike a chord, even 11 years later. Listening to “America” with the benefit of the hindsight of the Trump disaster is interesting because you can only wonder what they’d write now.
“Maneater” gets into some kind of Urban Voodoo Machine type thing, but with the greatest respect to the UVM boys and girls, even they – as mad as they are – don’t do the next two. “Arthur McCarthur” is an ode to a cat, and “The Thirty Eight”, the tale of the night bus (and co-incidently the bus I used to get to college when I was a kid) is true genius. Billy Bragg or Beans On Toast would relish this one, not to mention the God like Chas Hodges.
“You’re Alright” is as British and working class as love songs get. The equivalent of a drunk whatsapp message, it is glorious, as are the two bonus tracks. “Don’t Sign Up” is surprisingly tender and 60s sounding, while “In The Name Of What” is probably how they got the patronage of Madness way back when.
The real tragedy of this is simple. I went on the bands website to check a fact or two for this review, and in the “Upcoming Gigs” section, it simply says: “no shows scheduled”. The thing is, that this needs to be played for people to enjoy in sweaty rooms. That’s what “Our Night Out” should look like.
Rating 8/10
