See, I gotta give this much for Blur -- their profits helped to sign these guys to a label, a noble act of unintended altruism.
Not that Strangelove ever sounded like Blur, in whatever phase. Various neo-goth labels were thrown around, but that was because lead guy Patrick Duff, with the great tenor soaked in dark brandy or whatever drink of choice suits you best, maybe a rich red wine on "I Will Burn," say, liked to do the Robert Smith/Nick Cave when he was in the Birthday Party thing with his hair, mostly. I've heard of worse band/appearance associations, I'd have to say.
Drama-wracked, though, yes, and very self-consciously Romantic, though I remember the one review of this album at the time favoring Mannerism as the artistic reference point. So I posited that to my art-savvy friend Karen and played her "Low Life," the piano-based glittering darkness at the center of the album with Patrick doing a spotlight turn like few can over lyrics not a million miles removed from, say, the Smiths' "Asleep," but much less self-pityingly and far more resigned, and she agreed -- very theatrical, very upfront, very posed. Very lovely, I call it.
Strangelove as a band have this sometimes thick sometimes spacious sound to them, and I can't quite figure out how and why and where they fit into a particular continuum, if any. Not quite post-Joy Division Factory, not totally like the aggressive art stylings of And Also the Trees…it can turn up the volume when need be, but it's not so much rocked-out as blacked-out, casting shadows as it pumps up the energy, like on the chorus of "Quiet Day," for instance.
And then there's the balance of whispering and faded, buried shouting on "Fire (Show Me Light)," a not unknown touch beforehand, but here laden with a little extra all around, a little more desparate, a little more frenetic. Or the sliding croon as "The Return of the Real Me" thrashes up a bit, say. The Alex Lee playing guitar here wasn't the same one off gallivanting with Damian Hurst, and probably all for the good on that front, delivering silvery notes and rushed riffs and more with grace, a nice reduffing up of old formulae that was much better than most. It's what makes Time such a listenable record, that combination of guitar and voice throughout, conceivably even a better pairing than Brett and Bernard if you look at it right. And they once did "Killing of A Flash Boy" by Suede live for a while, and they probably made it really kick.
By the time everything stretches out on the wracked "Is There a Place?" with Patrick asking if there is "somewhere…somewhere…" over some last dying feedback and chords, I'm long since sold. A band that just was and did a great job at same. I'm not going to say no.