I should start by admitting that I am of those in the camp that adores The Clientele's music. I'm not what you would call a dedicated fan. Before this record came out I'd only listened to Strange Geometry and some scattered tracks. I don't know that much about the band's history or personality. I know that they're English, very English, which is to say sad, ironic, dry and pessimistic, but with a soft spot for romanticism and the occasional sunny day. What I do know is that their music affects my soul in a powerful and mysterious way. I've never put on a Clientele song that didn't alter my perception of the world around me. Like the hero in "Losing Haringey," everything around me becomes so imbued with memory and personal meaning, that a small ray of sun pouring into your kitchen is enough to make you misty. It took a while to get into Strange Geometry, but I kept coming back to those sad, beautiful, perfect songs. I'm not really into examining or exclaiming my love for them. I'm perfectly happy having a quiet and unrequited love for this little band that could.
That was until Alasdair MacLean started his talk about packing it in for good if this album didn't make them big. Apparently the Clientele is not enough of a money making enterprise to keep four adults afloat, so if their luck doesn't change after this album, they'll have to cut their losses. This shocks me, not because the band isn't making much money (sad, but believable) but because their music, although delicate, sounded so self assured and honed. Despite MacLean's dark and often hopeless lyrics, the band's sound is an unwavering constant, like the unconditional love of a man for his art. Which is to say, money or no money, chicks or no chicks, dude's always hot his guitar right? Apparently this little love affair isn't stern enough stuff for a whole life. And I'm now much more engaged in the real world of the Clientele, and it's made their music even more heartbreaking. That warm and deeply satisfying feeling their music gives me, the one I took for granted, now seems threatened by this cold and unforgiving world, like the Nothing that slowly devours Fantastica in The Never Ending Story. Fitting then that Bonfires on the Heath is both a concerted effort to expand their sound while simultaneously being a fitting swan song. This may not be THE definitive document of the band, but I would not hesitate to recommend this album to anyone even vaguely interested in the band. And I argue, it's just as easy to fall in love with as Strange Geometry.
The first track, "I Wonder Who We Are" bursts out of the gate with horns, jangly riffs, and stacatto 'bah be dahs' that make me wonder if the Clientele could actually have a shot at the pop charts, or at least a spot on the next hit romcom soundtrack. I mean no slight, the song is perfect pop with just a little hint of MacLean's dour style while he sings about his "littered face in the street." But this party is quickly crashed by the aching hallucinatory nostalgia of the title track. This song was apparently written after taking acid in the woods with some friends, who I'm almost sure must have included young Thom Yorke and Johnny Greenwood, considering it's similarity to "Letdown." Again, no slight. This is not your typical acid song, there are no freak outs or psychedelic imagery, just an elliptical riff and a nervy sense of impending dread. "Harvest Time" slips right into place, continuing to lilt you to sleep or your death, a feeling that is equally comforting and disquieting. And as you feel the record is descending in to Autumnal darkness and despair, "Never Anyone but You" and "Sketch" breathe a summery breath of life and romance into the record, the former being a song that equally captures the feelings of new love and love remembered.
I know, I'm on my way to an album narrative, something I've avoided since trying to write Kid A: The Movie. I attribute this to the strength of this album, the willingness to focus solely on the music of a band you initially felt was a little boring, for thirty odd minutes in a row. But damnit, it's a satisfying listen if I've ever heard one. Even if somber anglocentric music isn't your bag, you have to appreciate a band at the peak of their abilities.
If this is the end of the line for The Clientele, I will be a sad man. I still have several Clientele albums to search out, and if this is the last album they release, I look forward to digging into their back catalog as slowly as I can, pretending the band is still releasing work. All that being said, I hope Alasdair and his crew will either become wildly successful, or at least have a Jay Z length retirement.
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