The School - Loveless Unbelliever

Presenter

Jade Nobbs

Published

Monday 26th July

Popfrenzy

Native to Cardiff, Wales, the School dovetail with a well-established tradition of UK indie pop that revels in nostalgia for the 1960s. This camp broadly incorporates the likes of Saint Etienne, Belle and Sebastian, Broadcast and Camera Obscura, and indeed, it is often tempting to posit a direct line of descent between this latter day hipster jet-set and the fashionable space age pop of the Free Design, Truly Smith and Dusty Springfield. The School appear to jockey for position within this same genealogy. Erstwhile Saint Etienne producer Ian Catt is even at the helm.

And there certainly are some sweet, affecting tunes on this record, as captivating as the flick of a bobbed haircut or the glimpse of a rising hemline. And yet unfortunately, upon repeat listening this fascination starts to fade into disposability, like the yellowing cover image of a Mersey Beat magazine.

Opening track “Let It Slip” could almost be an outtake from a Camera Obscura record, with its unabashed motown beat, sleigh bells and classical pop melody recalling the likes of the Supremes and the Shirelles. “Is He Really Coming Home?” channels Saint Etienne by way of Phil Spector, the Ronettes and Dusty Springfield. At this point, we’re already starting to feel a touch of retro-pop-by-numbers. And by the time we’ve had half-a-dozen descending “whoa-whoa-whoas” in the final eight, things are starting to feel positively insipid . . .

And this creeping disaffection applies to many tunes on the album. “Is It True?” continues to draw upon the bountiful credit of the girl group pop formula, but without adding much interest. I’m certainly not one to belittle an exercise in pop pastiche, but my disillusionment here stems from the fact that this form of music was born out of a spirit of stylistic invention and youthful enthusiasm, and there is a jaded predictability to many of the compositions and arrangements here that betray this spirit.

“I Love Everything” is steeped in the Mersey Beat of the early Beatles, the Hermits and Manfred Mann, while “The One Who Left Me” references the milkbar angst of the Shangri-Las and the Angels, but neither song does much in the way of playing with the formula, and as a result is forgotten almost immediately. “Summer’s Here” is yet more motown-inspired orchestral pop fodder that has been tackled with more panache and aplomb (semi-)recently by the likes of Belle and Sebastian and Camera Obscura.

The latter acts exhibit the virtue of being able to take the formula and tweak it just enough to make it their own. The School seem not to have their own version or take on the swinging 60s sound, which makes this record on the whole a bit of a stretch and a yawn. Indeed, it’s telling that after listening to this record I had an immediate urge to listen to Dusty Springfield, Saint Etienne, Truly Smith and Broadcast, just to remind myself that this sort of music could still be relevant and interesting. And it is. But unfortunately, the stigma of redundancy hovers unavoidably over this record, and many of the tracks (“Hoping and Praying” and “Shoulder” for instance) are testament to this.

Which isn’t to say this isn’t a decent record to dip in and out of. There is a handful of fun tunes here, the standout being “I Want You Back”—which is less Jackson 5, and more the Crystals on crack—which has an extended melodic progression in the chorus that is pure ear-candy.

The School’s Loveless Unbeliever is thus a competent, if not entirely satisfying or stimulating, addition to UK indie pop’s ongoing meditation upon its own 1960s space age origins. But as this album adds little in the way of invention, you’d be better off investing in any number of the countless Phil Spector jukebox records upon which it excessively draws, as—so the old song goes—you probably won’t still love it tomorrow.