I like to think I have a way with words. I wouldn’t have the arrogance to write these reviews every day if I didn’t. But mate, look – like a non-league footballer who suddenly finds himself playing in the FA Cup against Manchester City, you have to recognise when someone is a genius and way better than you could ever dream of being.
Scott Lavene is exactly that.
His stories are sensational. The way he uses language, the life he explains – although totally different from mine – somehow relates.
And in a world where superlatives are chucked about like confetti (on their podcast this week David Hepworth and Mark Ellen called it “the age of awesome”), how do you explain that someone genuinely is doing something different? Anyone with a passing interest could spot his influences, but find me one other artist that could make this record.
Good luck.
About 18 months ago I went to watch Craig Finn play in a pub in Birmingham – as the lyricist of The Hold Steady, he’s a hero of mine. Scott Lavene opened that night and he transfixed me. The reason why is all in “Muscle Car”. A seemingly stream-of-consciousness piece, taking in number plates, trips to Graceland and Memphis strip clubs, it’s really about love.
Maybe at the heart of all these songs is love. The acoustic “Breakdown” certainly is.
The instrumentation is important too. The record was recorded in five days and sees Lavene singing more than he perhaps has recently.
“Cars” is more like the stuff on last year’s “Disneyland In Dagenham”: drugged up, yet beautifully reflective poetry over a harsh soundscape, even invoking the Baywatch soundtrack.
“A Bus In July” is gorgeously tender. Billy Bragg would be proud of this – if he’d ever written a song about living with a Moroccan armed robber and involving bags of custard.
The tinkle of the piano on “Pound Shop Pacino” will resonate with all of us who are “kings of the loser’s club,” while the synth and drum machine of “Home” is either a South Eastern England Sam Fender or a Romford Springsteen – take your pick. And while you do, think on this: “home is not a place, it’s a feeling.”
“Safeways” is ridiculously good. A love story like you’ve never heard before and the only song in the history of recorded music to contain the line: “my mum once said, the secret to a woman’s heart is gravy.”
Ryan Rogers’ Mellotron solo steals the damn show on “Services,” but the story of being hopelessly in love isn’t something I know anything about…
Maybe it’s the same girl that infuses “Bedsit.” There’s probably more than one. Either way, it’s a beautiful song.
“Cars, Buses, Bedsits And Shops” rounds itself off with another slice of reflection. “Funny How Things Change” makes you think. Even if those experiences in the song aren’t mine, the feeling is universal. And yeah: “you’ve got to float down the stream.”
There was a programme on Radio 4 recently (and nothing screams ‘almost 50’ as much as that sentence) where they were talking about the fact kids didn’t read anymore and how to get them interested in stories again.
They could do worse than ask Scott Lavene. He sets them to music as well as anyone ever has. Unique but never wacky. He’s not one of these pricks who is a self-styled “character” – you know, the type you’d cross the road to avoid. Rather, he just expresses himself unlike anyone else.
“Cars, Buses, Bedsits And Shops” isn’t for everyone, but it is superb.
Rating: 9/10
