Here are the young men, the weight on their shoulders . . . It would be easy to categorise Dublin band The North Sea as late comers to the noughties Joy Revision party that spawned the likes of Editors, Interpol, and later, White Lies.
They certainly have a sound that summons up ghostly images of the long-coated serious brigade of the late seventies. Brittle chords, guitar jangle, and moments of rapture abound on their taut and hugely melodic songs. Anniversary’s album cover of wintry purity even sings of suburban existentialism.
The trick is to transcend the dead weight of their obvious influences. The North Sea wade into the icy depths early with I Promise, which chimes with plangent guitars and the kind of chunky bass that will leave the pleasure zones of unreconstructed indie kids tingling. Melodic shifts and turns continue on the propulsive Love, a jagged stand-out that swoons with the same vaporous despair of their near neighbours, A Lazarus Soul.
The North Sea sure can make a love song sound like a bitter lament and if Eoin Kenny’s vocals sometimes fail to match the sky-scraping majesty of the music, his occasional falters suit these songs of insecurity, anger and confusion perfectly.
Maybe they run out of angst toward the album close but you will not doubt The North Sea’s conviction and ambition. They are a harsh rebuke to the bland careerism that has seized Irish pop and rock in recent years. Anniversary is one to play on sun-bleached days spent indoors and during the harrowing depths of another new January.
Alan Corr
