The Boat People
Chandeliers
by: Geoff Lemon
Fri:22-Aug-08
Label: Independent
Year: 2008
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Review
The Boat People are an object lesson in how success doesn’t always follow conventional lines. Way back in 1996, under the name Four on the Floor, the band won $20, 000 in the Nescafe Big Break competition (and if you can remember the Big Break, you must be feeling pretty fucking old right now.) They used the money to record a debut album, and could have been forgiven for thinking that their stroke of luck would presage smooth sailing from that point on.
Well, it didn’t quite work out that way. It took a further nine years to complete album number two, and now after 12 years they’ve managed a third. The Trojan War was done and dusted in less time than that. What happened to The Boat People in those intervening years is a bit of a mystery; were they training with an obscure order of monks who specialise in peeling cantaloupes using only meditation? Were they stuck in a prison in Tibet before emerging to stop Ra’s Al Ghul destroying Gotham? Were they filming porn under fake names and fake moustaches in a distant Central Asian republic? Who knows.
Another mystery is why the band changed their name to The Boat People. Given the timing of the change – around 2000, as John Howard’s scaremongering about refugee invasions was beginning its crescendo – the name change seems like a very political act. It leads one to expect that the band might tackle weighty issues, or incorporate hard-edged commentary, or at least be a little subversive and irreverent in their songwriting. Unfortunately though, Chandeliers is a very tame pop production, the sort even Amanda Vanstone could happily bop along to - although that’s a sight no-one wants to see.
Tag-team songwriters Robin Waters and James O’Brien follow a conventional indie-pop routine. The songs are certainly pleasant to listen to – the layered vocal harmonies are sweet and vibrant, the production is crisp, and several ounces of compulsive-toe-tapping dust have been sprinkled throughout by the multiple sclerosis fairy. The overall effect, though, remains underwhelming. The Boat People have clearly fashioned themselves in the mould of some great pop musicians – the Lucksmiths, Darren Hanlon, the Go-Betweens, Nick Barker, with a healthy dose of Neil Finn on the vocals - but they seem content to wander in the path their forerunners have set, rather than try to incorporate and transcend this heritage.
This isn’t to say there’s nothing to like about the album. To the contrary, it’s immensely likeable. It’s just not immensely interesting or exciting. The actual vocal work is quite lovely in places, for one thing. ‘On Your Side’ is one of the stronger offerings on Chandeliers, with a good upper register use on the lead vocal, reminiscent of the control displayed by Travis vocalist Fran Healy. ‘Baby Snake’ has a solid opening riff with a bit of strut. Its layered harmonies work well, touches of lightness interspersing some gutsier guitar. ‘Millagri’ is a good closing track, meandering its way to a conclusion, though its similarity to the sound of British band James is so marked as to be distracting. And ‘Destination’ is probably the album’s best track – certainly its most catchy – with its quality construction and deliciously fresh hook. But these tracks should have formed the base level from which The Boat People tried to reach greater heights. They shouldn’t in themselves represent the peak of the band’s achievement.
Elsewhere, there are some amateurish slip-ups. ‘Awkward Orchid Orchard’ is a reasonable opener, but the vocals are eponymously awkward in the first few bars. ‘Panic’ is almost irritatingly jaunty, while ‘A Space in Time’ labours through the verses until the chorus gives some relief. There are touches of cuteness – perhaps an attempt to show inventiveness – like the falsetto refrain in ‘Hours and Hours’, or the dog-howling on ‘A Space in Time’. But they end up seeming too much, too twee. The Boat People can’t get away with what The Triangles managed on Seventy-Five Year Plan. The lyrics at some points are ridiculous – “I hooked up with this girl / She was foxy and erudite.” At other points they’re just uninspired: “As if I’d hurt you / as if I could / We might seem scatterbrained / but we all mean well.”
Yeah, it’s likeable. It’s listenable. But there’s no subversion, no innovation. The Boat People’s influences are clearly on display, and some of the good qualities of their forebears are evident in their music. But, when a great chef cooks you a meal, even the reheated leftovers are likely to be pretty damn tasty. Thing is, you can’t give that much credit to the dude who turned on the microwave. No doubt Chandeliers will go okay on the charts, and perhaps afford The Boat People the same kind of lukewarm success that bands like Motorace enjoyed. But that’s probably as far as it deserves. Chandeliers is reasonable effort, but not worth waiting a decade for.
The Boat People
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