TWISTED
Del Amitri
A&M; 1995
What would you get if you merged the clean guitar rock of the early Stones with the lyrical magic and melodic maturity of Sgt. Pepper-era Beatles? Del Amitri fans will vote for their favourite band — and with respect to Twisted, they wouldn’t miss the mark. This is as straight-up as blues-laced, melody driven pop-rock ever got in 1995. About 15 years on, this Glasgow band’s record still sounds fresh — even with its hits like Driving With The Brakes On and Roll To Me.
But Twisted runs deeper. Del Amitri’s recalcitrant, tongue-in-cheek humour was too much for sustainable mainstream success, while the junk-addled, balloon-bursting images of disturbia that accompanied some of its most memorable ballads were at best an acquired taste. But then, mainstream never made a cult classic, and that is what Twisted was destined to be, rather than ever really making it as a “breakthrough” project.
It’s a bittersweet subject, for Twisted plays on contrasts; the contrast between what’s been sung and the music that swathes it — which gave rise to the record’s title. Dark and ambient in one tune; sparkly sunshine in the next, Del Amitri — singer-songwriter-bass player Justin Currie and guitarist-songwriter-composer Iain Harvie, along with David Cummings on guitar, Andy Alston on keys and Chris Sharrock on drums and percussion — never fail to connect on a personal level on Twisted. The narratives are everyday; the emotions everyman. Thus, given all its cynicism, Twisted turns up as an uplifting record.
With a twin guitar attack, Twisted marked a shift in the band’s sound from it’s last outing, Change Everything, which bordered on folk-pop. But instead of rocking per se, the band also took time with acoustic arrangements and turned more introspective, thereby offering up gems like Here & Now and Tell Her This. Perhaps to emphasise that shift, the album opens strong, with the straight-faced rocker Food For Song. Currie’s voice, a nicotine-drenched tenor, wraps around a personal quality that’s immediately effective and you’re led through the stompy, brisk-paced Start With Me to Here & Now. This is where the introspection kicks in; Harvie’s jangly acoustic hook careening a Hammond organ line to kick up a situational classic.
While the shiny Roll To Me was a “standout” according to Hollywood — the tune was featured on the Flipper soundtrack — gems like It Might As Well Be You, dedicated to celebrating and regretting one-night stands and the funky Never Enough offer far more substance.
The hits do not make this album a must-have contender. It’s the band’s collective psyche that does it, translated in luminous harmonies and lyrics that deal with the ordinary with an extraordinary passion.
Published in t2, March 2009