Bobby Conn King For A Day by: Al Cottrill Mon:25-Jun-07 Label: Thrill Jockey Year: 2007 WB rating 33 out of 100

If forced to choose, avant-garde may be the best way to describe the acid/jazz/funk/metal/glam of Bobby Conn’s King For A Day. Jumping impulsively between sounds, it promises much, showing off Conn and his bands all-round instrumental flair, but fails to deliver anything of substance. Given its numerous styles, the album neglects to hit the mark musically, a mortal blow to an album so self-referential and deliberately ironic.

Songs flicker, showing flashes of brilliance, short sections of inspiration before collapsing in on themselves or extending their welcome too long. The introduction of album opener ‘Vanitas’ promises great things. Violin riffs amongst a brooding funk, writhing and shaking it gradually grows for two minutes, building an intriguing sound. That it is then overwhelmed by familiar guitar and crashes back to earth is disappointing, while chanting in Latin only tires the joke, before hair-metal riffs kill off any remaining interest. At eight minutes total, the humour has faded long before the second track starts. Glam tracks ‘When The Money’s Gone’ and ‘King For A Day’ are an improvement, and somewhat revives the album’s prospects with their playful spin. The former sees Conn using his affected delivery for good, opening with the line “I feel old fashioned when we fuck in the dark/Like the pilgrims used to do”. Good use of a Chamberlin, later assisted by violin and clavinet, give the song a swinging beat rich enough to carry Conn’s moans. In ‘King For A Day’, the incisive observations of life in a small rock-band are let down by the instrumentation, which is (surprisingly) a little too restrained, not achieving much until the final garage-rock breakdown.

There are other songs that fall on the right side of the line, such as ‘Love Let Me Down’s jaunting revisionist pop, which is not unlike Madness in its vibe. Upbeat and catchy, it shows what Conn and band are capable of doing when avoiding exhibitionism. ‘Twenty One’ is also fun, including buzzing jazz saxophone, it succeeds in the quirky stakes, with Conn sexing it up with lines like “I’m looking for an older man/Boys my age don’t understand”. Instrumental tracks ‘Sinking Ship’ and ‘Glimpse of Paradise’ provide their own peculiar brand of interest, showing off the band’s talents. Despite this, they seem cringingly out of place on the album, with ‘Sinking Ship’s metal groove acting more as concept-album filler than purposeful inclusion.

While King For A Day is a concept album of sorts, it doesn’t quite succeed in its lofty ambitions. It seems an awkward combination of cheap rock-opera and ironic joke; containing all the embellishments and promotional add-ons of the first, but lacking enough interesting content to pull off the second. It’s an interesting dilemma.

The album is certainly hurt by all that goes with it. In researching Conn, watching the videos for this album, reading his joking manifestos and oblique press, the music had no chance. Formed amongst an excess of trying irony, every instrumental flourish, every affected vocal, every sarcastic lyric grated. I hated the album passionately. There was no form, no coherence, and the overall impression was a forced, trite and tired joke. But given time to forget, I found parts within songs that pricked my ears. Gradually I came around, beginning to appreciate the music for what it was: interesting, a bit catchy, and in its own way, almost enjoyable. While it may seem unfair to criticise an album based upon the singer’s personality, the look-at-me irony King For A Day means that the two are inseparable.

Unfortunately, the flashes of brilliance become less frequent as the album wears on. ‘I’m Through With My Ego’ flirts with Nick (‘The Stripper’-era) Cave, along with both ‘80’s pop and death-metal to its own detriment, the racing guitars of ‘Anybody’ do little to increase the song’s appeal, while spoken-word interlude ‘Punch The Sky’ will divide listeners right down the middle. The shame is that all of these songs could be greatly improved by a little coherence, and a little less forced eccentricity. While the genre-switching between tracks is mostly bearable, when done within individual songs it goes too far, and the album doesn’t have the attraction or quality to pull it off.

With a little more focus on the music, and a little less on character, this album could have been something. Unfortunately any potential is sapped, songs sacrificed at the altar of oddball, with eccentricity favoured over quality. In deference to this music, it does have a place. If I had seen it down at a bar with Conn’s larger-than-life personality flaunting on stage and playing to the crowd, I have no doubt that I would have enjoyed the grooving lounge funk and glam. But unfortunately it does not belong in physical form, pressed to plastic with the life squeezed from it.