What always distinguished the Stereophonics from their British contemporaries is, to quote their own "Mr. Writer," their tendency to "tell it like it is," at least lyrically. Finding substance in t-shirt suntans and taxi rides in past albums, a huge part of the charm in their music has been glorifying the inane in songs that are far from frivolous.
On their 2001 endeavor, "Just Enough Education to Perform," frontman and lead guitarist Kelly Jones, with help from Stuart Cable (drums) and Richard Jones (bass), managed to build an entire album around this very premise.
Much of the charisma, however, is absent in their latest album, "You Gotta Go There to Come Back," and among other things, the subject matter is not nearly as endearingly quaint. Instead of lacing the lyrics with charming tales of an average Joe and his occasional money-stealing fantasies, Jones feels it necessary to change the subject matter from a generic subject to generic in general. One-word metaphors for jealousy? "Maybe tomorrow I'll find my way home"? Pleeeease.
Even the song titles are an uninteresting departure; past song titles have included wordy, seemingly random behemoths like "Check my eyelids for holes," "I stopped to fill my car up" and "Step on my old size nines," but even the wordiest titles on this album are pretty standard. "Rainbows & Pots of Gold"? Kelly, is that the best you could do?
Which brings us to the fatal flaw of the album: it's dull. While "Education" sparkled with pop sheen, "You Gotta Go" attempts to shed the glossy veneer and revert to the more authentic Brit-rock trappings from the days of their 1997 debut, "Word Gets Around." But it's still more pop than rock -- and what is pop without its sparkling facade?
There are moments of exception. The opening track, "Help Me (She's Out of Her Mind)," is gritty enough to capture the crunch the band was undoubtedly attempting to create, embellished with a slew of riffs rather uncharacteristic of their work, and particularly uncharacteristic of their last album. Curiously, the second track, "Maybe Tomorrow," could have easily have been on "Education." Although it would have been the most bluesy song on that album, the background "oohs" and general ironic sentiments of a "rainbow smile," "breeze" and "clouds" would be right in the neighborhood of "Education"'s "Have a Nice Day." This opening dichotomy is a suitable microcosm for the entire album -- the band has no idea who they are, who they've been or who they're trying to be. The thing about "going there" before you come back is that you first have to know where "there" is.
Not that it isn't refreshing to hear blues and rock more strongly accentuated; "Education" nearly completely resulted in the loss of their Brit-rock label and left the band hurtling into Brit-pop, Rod Stewart oblivion (the incidental likeness of Jones's and Stewart's voices make this fate all the more intriguing).
But what might be the most startling about "You Gotta Go" is the blatant showcase of sex and drugs. Granted, the focus is on rock, and sure, the subtext was always there in past albums -- rarely can you find a solid rock album without mention of either of the two -- but it was just that: subtext. Instead, take the opening lines from "Getaway": "Remember when we were angels / Before we stole cars / And when sex and drugs / Lived up in another world." It's quite easy to remember such a time when your past three albums document that very state. The inundation of the themes begs the question of what exactly the band is compensating for.
As amiable as their music has always been, the lyrics were always what made the albums; "You Gotta Go" sees that trend suddenly reversed, and the results, for the most part, are not to the band's advantage. While they don't have any particular musical shortcomings, don't they have any musical standouts eother, and in a genre as hackneyed as Brit-rock has become, not standing out is the proverbial kiss of death.
Grade: 1 1/2 stars