Back in 2016, I reviewed an Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell album – their third – called “Keep It Greasy”.
The last line of the review was this: “Instead they are the great underdogs of British rock and bless them for it.”
This is their fifth, their first for seven years, and they’re still greasier than a three-day-old KFC box and twice as tasty.
That much is clear from “Laughing Gravy”, which is big, thick, nasty and fuzzy, and seems to come straight from the swamp. If this is a trip, then it is a bad one, and that is meant as the highest compliment. There is nothing polite here, nothing polished for polite society, just riffs that sound like they have been dragged out of a ditch and told to start swinging.
“A Better Day” does not so much follow it as ooze out of it, and that is one of the things that makes “The Trouble With The Shovell” so effective. The songs merge into one another, increasing the feeling that this is a journey rather than a collection. Not necessarily a journey you would take without checking your insurance first, but a journey all the same.
“Sideways Barnacle” anchors itself with bass between the riffs, keeping the whole thing nailed down just enough to stop it floating off into the outer reaches, while “Head In A Noose” is as unhinged as anything Jim Jones has ever done. There is a glee to this stuff, a sense that they know exactly how ridiculous, dangerous and brilliant it all is, and they are not inclined to apologise for any of it.
“Kind Boy” brings more in-your-face rock ’n’ roll energy, and the leads are supreme. The Shovell have always understood that a solo should sound like someone has lost control of the steering wheel, and this one absolutely does. “Slayed In Full” then turns up with the air of a 60s song that has been dusted in acid for years. If this is garage rock, then lord knows what is in the boxes in the corner.
“First City Seconds” is built on the sort of heavy blues groove that gives the whole thing the air of a hippie commune that has gone badly wrong. “Goodbye all you freaks,” they sing, and frankly, who else was this going to be for? The freaks, the lifers, the ones who know that sometimes all you need is a riff with dirt under its fingernails and a band that looks like it might have been banned from nicer establishments.
By the time “Blue Mountain Dust” arrives, the riffs reek of danger. Lord knows what is in that dust, but the song is only a heartbeat away from becoming a jam band thing, let’s be honest. The difference is that The Shovell never forget the grease. They can stretch, they can wander, but they always come back to the groove.
And “Another Greasy Spoon” rather sums the lot up. You can imagine this as some kind of “Old Grey Whistle Test” performance, hairy blokes in denim and beards enjoying it, while someone in a control room wonders whether this is allowed on television. It probably should not be. Which is why it absolutely should.
I could write a clever conclusion, except frontman Johnny Gorilla – I suspect this is not his real name – made it quite clear when he spoke of “The Trouble With The Shovell”: “if you don’t buy it,” he said, “you’re a c**.”
Sorted.
RATING 8/10
