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Grand Theft Audio | Blame Everyone | review | rock | Lollipop

Grand Theft Audio

Blame Everyone (London)
by Scott Hefflon

I keep thinking this is closer to party rock than we've come in years, and that maybe this time it'll work and we can get back to singing instead of rapping and barking and rolling on the floor and groaning, and maybe guitar solos will come back in style and white kids will start dressing like white kids again and celebrating their own damn culture instead of pretending they know anything about someone else's, and maybe guitarists will have something to aspire to again, and melodic, anthemic rock won't be called "punk" anymore, and pop will again have some integrity and boy bands will be pushed back into teenie magazines where they belong. Hell, maybe Grand Theft Audio are onto something with their interesting blend of rock balls, lush pop sing-a-longs, and electronica's, um, electronic sounds. Basically, once you realize this band is British (where they can get away with this stuff more easily) and includes an ex-member of The Wildhearts (an early '90s rock band most Americans have never heard of, but maybe some realized Ginger kicked in some vocals in Backyard Babys' cover of Faster Pussycat's "Babylon," thus pointing a middle finger in the right direction) and a keyboardist who co-wrote EMF's infectious "Unbelievable," it all starts to come together. Part Chemical Brothers-meets-neo-glam, part White-Zombie-does-a-beer-commercial; basically, it's where God Lives Underwater was heading until they put us to sleep with mediocre Spiritualizedisms, what Machines Of Loving Grace hinted they were capable of until, um, a butterfly's wings ceased fluttering, and - to really go out on a limb here - where Pop Will Eat Itself was in the late '80s with Go Box Frenzy before they stunk, were slightly redeemed by signing with Trent's Nothing Records and releasing a pretty good EP and full-length and touring with NIN for a bit before disappearing yet again a half decade ago.

In English, that means that this is a fuckin' rock band filled with booze and broads, fun aggression and silly decadence and snarling attitude, like raising a toast or mooning a cop who's already pulled someone else over and, chances are, isn't going to run his doughnut-eatin' ass back to the squad car to chase you dumb shits down. Living dangerously within the safety zone, or so you tell yourself. High-five your bad self and let loose a little, huh?


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