Review – Maximo Park – A Certain Trigger

At the turn of the century, the wave of bands that defined good music was of an interesting pedigree. American born and bred, they made their way across the Atlantic because the rigid structure of the music industry didn’t give them a chance. Once in Europe, they made a big enough name for themselves, wherein their sounds headed back home, where they now enjoy equal success. The Strokes, Interpol, The Yeah Yeah Yeah’s, The White Stripes, the list goes on.

Within the last couple of years, however, the UK has answered the call with a line of bands that are unapologetically British, taking homespun influences (XTC, Dexy’s Midnight Runners, Gang of Four) and crafting strong albums. Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, Dogs Die in Hot Cars, and The Futureheads are just a few. Add Maximo Park to that list.

Going through the proper channels (release a single or two, tour like mad, whet people’s appetites), Maximo Park has released A Certain Trigger, a broken heart disguised as a schizophrenic pop record. Influences could be sighted and references can be made but that would just detract from what is a manic amalgam of great music that proudly stands on its own.

The most obvious (and lazy) comparison one would make is to compare Maximo’s interpretation of post-punk pop to the Futureheads brand of new wave. Their first couple singles, “Apply Some Pressure” and “The Coast is Always Changing” seemed to imply that they were one in the same band. But Maximo Park brings a more traditional rock approach. Listen to the rolling, Animals-esque guitar to open the album on “Signal and Sign.” Check out the guitar/organ interplay on “Graffiti,” featuring the year’s best chorus, “I’ll do graffiti if you speak to me in French.”

And speaking of their latest single, it is arguably the best three minutes on the radio today. Paul [Smith, vocals]‘s lyrics have this great ability to distill easily remembered lines in melodic, a sign of great s popsmith. There is also “Your eyes are big when they’re so close” (“Postcard of a Painting”) and “I think its time we compiled a list/of places we shouldn’t go” (“Kiss You Better”) as reasons to rewind the songs over.

“Acrobat” finds the band putting on their ballad cap. Over a synthed out drumbeat, Smith mumbles like Stuart David (think Looper, not Belle and Sebastian) about the frustrated position of a crumbling love. “I am not an acrobat/I can not perform these tricks for you,” he sings, unable to hold to the manic façade he maintained for the eleven songs previous. This track brings the album together, the underlining thread of loss, confusion, and disillusion that are the seeds of these songs.

Anticlimactically, “Kiss You Better” closes the album, returning to the frenetic formula that characterized the rest of the album. Good song, but probably best served elsewhere in the tracklisting.