When I think of bands that are quintessentially English, I think of The Wave Pictures. Yet, they also have an edge that sounds like they could be from the US; there’s a distinct Violent Femmes sound to their music, and that is demonstrated on Instant Coffee Baby in spades.
It’s unusual, too, to be talking about a band’s seventh album. We’re usually showcasing their debut or second album. Yet, here we are. This was the album that broke the band beyond the fringes of Herman Düne fans; this is the album that cemented their cult status.
If you grew up outside of the big cities, there’s a sense of the sublime and ridiculous that is woven into the tapestry of rural life. Lead singer, Dave Tattersall, has surely collected all of these weird and wonderful pieces of the human psyche and poured it into the 13 songs that make up Instant Coffee Baby. It’s both a love letter to Loughborough, and a warning to anyone thinking of settling there.
The Guardian weren’t fans, suggesting that “If off-key vocals, low production values and lyrics about tinned peaches and sculptures of marmalade enchant you, Instant Coffee Baby won’t leave your stereo for weeks.” Then again, they completely garble the lyrics they quote, so you can’t take their word for it – or 150 words of it, because that’s all they could feel inspired to write.
Yes, it’s lo-fi. It’s meant to be. Yes, it’s quirky and slightly adolescent, it’s meant to be. It’s philosophical and takes on deeper meaning, if you’re willing to take time to uncover the secrets hidden in plain sight. Like the anti-folk movement that The Wave Pictures sit within, and also slightly outside, it’s probably like the first time you heard The Smiths and either loved them or hated them. There are no grey areas with The Wave Pictures, either.
Again, I refer you to Violent Femmes.
This is the brilliance of the group. They sound like they’re shambolic (to Guardian reviewers in 2008) yet there is an accomplished set of musicians and songwriters here. Catchy songs, humorous lyrics supported by backing vocals that are surely accompanied by knowing winks and wry smiles as they were delivered. If you played it to your parents they’d probably tap their feet and bop their heads, yet be confounded by the masterful tongue-in-cheek lyrical content, particularly those of the title track.
Those lyrics are as good as a certain Sheffield band’s early work, too. It’s just a folksy part of the world they sing about.
This set of songs sounds as fresh today, 15 years on. Those bouncy guitar solos, the proficient drums that belie expectations, the slight croon of David’s voice as he sings about a typical night out in Loughborough and the girl from Baker’s Oven holding back the hair of a puking friend. Despite some of the lyrics, this is a happy album. It’s hard not to want to dance to it. Or singalong with David – who you feel would be happy to duet with you at a gig.
It was reissued by Moshi Moshi only a few years ago. Yet, as with all great cult albums, it sold out and, when it does appear, continues to attract high prices in the secondhand market. One can only hope they’ll reissue it again.
Of course, the band are now approaching their 20th album and playing live regularly. They’re as brilliantly bonkers as ever, yet have retained that sense of exquisite songwriting and composition that makes Instant Coffee Baby an instant classic.
I love it.