When this boy with the new Arab Strap first played The Last Romance he knew what to expect. Yeah, yeah more alcohol drenched tales of the failings of love and sex, and nothing in-between. Arab Strap is like your favourite old regular down at your local – you’ve heard all his tales a thousand times but that doesn’t make it any less essential. In fact the band seem so set in their ways that they can add a hint of happiness to their repertoire and call it progress.
Mind you, just a hint.
The Last Romance, the duo’s sixth studio album, is being touted as their ‘happy record’. If you were to believe that, though, you’d probably also believe the regular when he says he could have it off with any lass he desired. Malcolm Middleton and Aidan Moffat perhaps do have reason to be a little more upbeat given recent critical acclaim for solo projects and 2003’s Monday Night at the Hug and Pint but Moffat’s gruff Scottish brogue and stare into your half-empty not half-full pint mutterings just wouldn’t be the same were he to sound cheery.
It must be said that lyrically, yes, Moffat deals now with not only love lost but the genuine feeling of love. Musically, the single Dream Sequence resembles the atmospherics of Coldplay, which I suppose could be construed as happy, or pleasant, or, um, unnecessary.
If the album displays any notable development it is in the melding of the lyrical prowess of Moffat with the increasingly poignant music, largely Middleton’s domain. While Moffat should never be considered a singer as such, he has at last learnt to hold a tune consistent with his musical-backing. If you can get past his thickly accented croon, you will no doubt be captivated by the duty of care in which Moffat’s vocals are integrated into Middleton’s arrangements.
Effortless melodies and sing-along choruses suggest maybe coherency is the key to The Last Romance. But then, just how coherent can pint-fuelled narratives be? Arab Strap may have toned down the doom and gloom but their music remains a sort of seductive misery. You simply cannot deny the happiness, well, happiness in a sexually explicit manner, of a track like Come Around and Love Me nor opener Stink and its firing shot, ‘Burn these sheets that we’ve just fucked in’, which instantaneously confirms Arab Strap’s provocative lyrical tradition and Moffat’s position as one of the best swearers in music.
Track two (If There’s) No Hope For Us is a welcome breath of fresh air. While maintaining the stale surroundings of pub domestics, the music updates the Arab Strap template to post-punk. A driving rhythm section brings urgency to a two-sided tale of romantic rivalries and unfaithful lovers. The dilemma is enhanced by the unexpected arrival of female vocals and Moffat’s impressive ability to duet.
From the tuneful to the tuneless. Nothing could prepare the listener for the next track Chat in Amsterdam, Winter 2003. A unique spoken word slash singsong piece backed by Xiu Xiu-like sound-matter culminating in a cutting feedback finale. And it works a treat.
The issue of happiness is only truly apparent in final track There is no Ending whereby Moffat lists all his faults, from his ‘growing gut’ to his ‘greying hair’, and decides should someone be capable of loving such atrocities maybe, just maybe he could do the same for that special one.
But what Moffat says and how he acts are two very different things. Confessions of a Big Brother is another highlight with Moffat in particularly prophetic form. There is warmth, albeit laced with regret, in Moffat’s counsel as here, more than ever, he plays the advising loner. You can just imagine him huddled in the darkened corner of some dingy dive when he utters lines like:
‘Try and be a gentleman, always tell the truth
I’m not just a hypocrite, I’m jealous of your youth.’
Age may have rendered the duo weary but it has also brought about renewed vigour. With The Last Romance Arab Strap have expanded their sound palette and broadened their outlook on life. They have proven you can polish the turgid and, in a brief 36 minutes, capture British pub culture in all its intoxicating haze. I’ll drink to that.
