published: 17 /
5 /
2004
The Izzys have been dubbed The Next Big Thing, and have been likened to the Stones. Emma Haigh found little appealing in their debut album on first listening, but believes now on further hearings that there is more to it than initally meets the ear
Article
The Izzys self-titled debut reeks of a certain something I’m sure I’ve heard before. They’ve been swept up under the wing of Big Hype, likened to the Stones as the Strokes were the Velvet Underground. Being dubbed the Next Big Thing generally serves to paralyse a group’s longevity, yet nonetheless I bought the buzz and received it with all the salivating anticipation of a 13-year old closeted boy queueing to meet Will Young. It should come as no surprise that I would throw it on and be immediately disappointed.
Ever positive, I struggled through the first half searching for something that might grab me, determined to make it to the end. And I did. Then promptly left it in the deepest darkest nether regions of the cavern under my bed to collect dust with forgotten final notices and other crap I’d rather not pay attention to. It just sounded like they couldn’t be arsed. No attention paid to order, or continuity. Their self-described mercurial threads and winding protean highway could bite me for all I cared.
A couple of days later I was pottering about in my heels cooking dinner, as you do, grooving to the tunes I store at the back of my mind for such occasions and kept coming back to this one song I couldn’t place. I was shaking to the East and shaking to the West and fairly determined that little Sally Water ought to know I loved her the best. Leaving the rice to burn, I hauled upstairs and there, amid the frankly astonishing population of tumbing hair balls and screwed up Rizlas, the primary source. After vacuuming thoroughly and finding new batteries for the fire alarm, I popped it back on.
I changed my mind.
Where the first listen was jagged and uneven, upon a second hearing, the pieces started to find each other. By the third try the roots began to shine a little, and I will say this without resignation: The Izzys are worth much of the hype they’ve been given. Mike Storey’s genuine howl and sympathetic guitar squalls of 'You Got Me Crying' tug at your tear-ducts; while the loin-grabbing pulse of Joe Cooney’s bass and Tim Kuhl’s drum work found on 'Strange' and Velocity' make you want to get down in some grubby alleyway, or at least in someone’s front garden. Together, they explore a darker side of country and the saltier side of rock, and wrap up their findings in a pretty solid and varied debut. However, and it’s a capital H, However, this sort of chameleonism weakens where it could inspire, and drags more obvious talents (the flicker of blues drumming and a penchant for uncompromising lyrical drollery) down when they could be soaring. Bluesy and thundering friction of raw vocals and driving guitar are weighed down by attempts to inject some grass to that blue, and lightening to the storm. While this debut clearly demonstrates the Izzys enormous potential to produce genuinely exciting music, I think we should wait before pushing them beyond their means just yet.
Picture Gallery:-
