1990s Cookies by: Tom Bradbury Tue:25-Sep-07 Label: Rough Trade Year: 2007 WB rating 80 out of 100

Whenever I listen to the 1990s, I can’t stop thinking about the fictional band from Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous, Stillwater. There is something about the 1990s’ ardent desire to be believable as rock ‘n’ roll superstars that bears an uncanny resemblance to that make believe 70s band – the whole front of “Look at us, we take drugs and enjoy it” and “we have cult status” (If you have it, you shouldn’t need to talk it up). In fact, Billy Crudup’s famous war cry from the top of a Kansas roof, “I’m on Drugs”, goes a long way towards defining the 1990s’ lyrical bent. They might be shooting for iconoclastic, but they come off as ironic – you should at least make some attempt to cheekily disguise drug references, as was the norm in the 60s – see ‘Got To Get You In To My life’ or ‘Eight Miles High’ (perhaps a thin one, but at least The Byrds didn’t call it ‘Eight Miles High…On Drugs Mannn’).

All that aside, like Stillwater, the 1990s are still a really solid band – they’re professional, and from the tight party-rock that they have laid down on Cookies, it is easy to see how two of these guys shared a band with members of Franz Ferdinand. Often this style of music comes off as rather forced and inauthentic, bands acting like rock stars before they are anything close to actually being them – but the 1990s have such effortlessly infectious hooks that there is indeed some sort of credibility to their lyrical shenanigans. ‘See You at the Lights’, part of a killer opening triplet of tracks, is easily the highlight of Cookies from a melodic standpoint. Sweet harmonies reminiscent of Ferdinand’s ‘Tell Her Tonight’ glide over crisp distorted guitar, and you can’t help but want to dance, which is really what rock ‘n’ roll is all about anyway. Lyrical sins can always be forgiven if you are lost in dancing ecstasy.

Album opener, ‘You Made Me Like It’, is another groover, bouncing bass providing fuel for Jackie McKeown’s ever cheeky vocals. 1990s’ song structures are so effective there is no hiding that he has been at this game a while. The air of competency and professionalism makes Cookies seem a more calculated than spontaneous album, but that is also probably one of its strongest assets. A track like ‘Arcade Precinct’ isn’t necessarily that strong melodically, but it has enough flourishes to make it interesting – a thoughtful backing vocal here and a well considered bridge there makes all the difference.

Cookies is the sound of an experienced band desperately reaching for fame. There may be some lyrical posturing as a result of this, but musically the 1990s are not puffed up beyond bursting point. They are able to consistently deliver dance floor anthems to a degree that most like minded bands couldn’t match – sometimes there is no substitute for desire and know-how.