Crack

3/20

Oh my God? Are you serious? The new Clash? Turn it up man! I’d love to hear the new Clash. God, I’ve been waiting for this day since ... just turn it up! Wow-ee! Big fucking whoop.

There’s really no reason to still be bitter about that. OK, so they were erroneously referred to as the ‘New Clash’ for a while. So what? There have probably been numerous ‘New Clashes’ picked out over the years, and they’re all lying in a pile along with all the new Roses and Nirvanas and all the other lot, probably all alcoholic call centre workers with their reviews torn out and kept in their wallets until the sides tear and the ink fades and the memories fade and all that’s left is a resentful old bastard with nothing to offer. Not that anyone’s hoping that’s what’s going to happen to the chaps from Hard-Fi. No sir. Not at all.

So this, the third record from the brand spanking new Clash (last time) was turned on with at least a semblance of an open mind. What greets us is an overwhelming wave of nauseating lad rock, so inoffensive it’s remarkably offensive, with a customary smattering of slightly rootsy swagger and wooden blocks and the like. It’s been done before, and better, and by Hard-Fi themselves, actually. We’re also treated to the odd moment of OTT stadium-electro to wave your iPhones in the air to. And it’s really sad to think that someone could put all that effort into making an album and decide to call their tunes things like Give It Up, Bring It On and Love Song.

OK, look, we’re trying to be nice, but would you kindly vacate the premises and fuck off back to your Carling ads please. Many thanks. Yours sincerely, Crack.