The Flaws you used to know may now be dead. Streaks of post-punk that were so obvious on their previous two albums seem to have been trampled beneath their feet, as ‘Springtime From The Flaws’ comes across as the point at which they’ve finally caught up with time.
So far they have been good – musically speaking there’s nothing to fault the band apart from a tendency to get plumped into categories with Delorentos or Two Door Cinema Club, instead of being instantly recognisable in their own right.
This album should break that duct as not only do they communicate a singular sense of themselves, they’ve got the songs to go along with it.
There’s no doubting the presence of some really great tunes, but they’re of a very specific type. Singer Paul Finn projects his voice languidly in the majority, making his shrieks and yawps – which seem to strike only when the mood lifts – all the more gratifying.
This sense of the subdued paints a lot of the album grey, which can be detrimental to the overall impression you get, but the good parts are the best kind of good. You’re swept off your feet, almost disoriented by the heights to which Finn has the brilliant knack of bringing you.
It’s may be an odd comparison but the teenage angst that made Bloc Party so popular peeps up every now and then. Ourside is the obvious example, with lyrics like “I can’t tell if you’re on our side” telling it best.
Animals lopes gracefully and casually, one of those rare songs that does not outpace itself for the sake of entertainment value. Any sense of a song rushed has been replaced by a real conviction for the rudiments of the songs themselves.
Perhaps the best thing about this album is the noteable shift in style that the band have taken up since their last outing, ‘Constant Adventures’. It’s clear to see that The Flaws do not rest on the laurels of a so-called tone, but are embracing the emotions in their lives, seeming to be making an effort to spin a lifelong yarn within the confines of their growing discography.