The Clientele Album: “Suburban Light”

Like so many other foreign, melancholy and vaguely acoustically oriented bands, The Clientele have been unfairly compared to Belle and Sebastian and lumped into it's corduroy sporting retro-folk brigade. Perhaps a more reasonable comparison would be to eighties stalwarts The Go-Betweens, with some similarities to forgotten brit poppers The Trash Can Sinatras, and still others to New Zealand's pop inflected Flying Nun posse. Awash in shimmering guitars and plaintive vocals, it's easy to imagine the rain gathering in sheets on the London streets as Alasdair Maclean penned lyrics about junebugs, lonely mornings, and the ever present (at least in Rock music history) Mrs. Jones. More firmly footed in a retro sound than most other bands outside of the Elephant 6 combine, The Clientelle invoke The Association and the softer Kinks moments, as opposed to The Elephant collective's seemingly unending passion for the rambling trappings of Syd Barret and The Thirteenth Floor Elevators. The only minor flaw in this otherwise gorgeous record is Maclean's voice and it's habit of wandering endlessly around a song's hook, stumbling and trying to hit the right note before weakly retreating. For music so obviously intended for soaring harmonies and brilliant melodies, it can try your patience much like rooting for The Cubs to win the world series. You want to see it, you're sure it will certainly happen eventually, but elusively enough, the moment keeps fluttering away.

If you would like a nice mellow album, but find yourself turned off by bands such as Red House Painters or American Analog Set, give Suburban Light a try. What separates the Clientele from the rest of the new quiet bunch is that their music always has a foot firmly planted in the classic rock tradition, meaning the emphasis is always on the songs, not the sound. There are whispers of groups like the Association and the Byrds scattered throughout the album. Obviously, with song titles such as "monday's rain" and "6am morning" you know what you are going to get here, but Suburban Light never gets boring. One of my favorite releases this year.

Rainy streets of London. Gorgeous, haunting, reverb-drenched memories of lo-fi Britpop. Warm headphones. I don't normally say things like this, but really it's the only way to describe The Clientele.

They say the sense of smell has the closest link to triggering memories, but for me it has to be sound. I'm really not sure what memories are triggered by Suburban Lights. They may not even be my own memories. But there's something very romantic about them, and I want very much for them to be my own cherished secret.

Okay, another gratuitous digression: I imagine uncovering a small, hand-cranked organ in a quiet alley. Probably abandoned by some troubador long ago. I start playing it, expecting a small, bird like sound. But instead, it sounds like someone bottled up John Lennon, Nick Drake, and various 60's pop bands into this little box. A dream from the past, that I play again and again. That's what The Clientele remind me of.

I have to say that I have recently been obsessed with this band. Once the music from any of the songs start, I am completely relaxed and my mind wanders into an ethereal state. The songs do sound similar but they provide a continuum of this peaceful state.

i make no apologies: i ADORE this album. it probably makes my top five of all-time. this review isn't very objective, but who cares.

i listen to 'suburban light' and i'm instantly transported to london, circa fall 1965. i'm walking arm-in-arm with someone resembling adriana lima and she's wearing go-go boots.

the clientele is all about mood and aesthetics: honey-colored skies, autumn leaves, foggy mornings, purple twiglights and buttery dawns; drowned out vocals, guitar pedals, studio effects and atmospherics, and you get the feeling that's just the way they planned it.

this is the album you listen to while you fall in love with your boyfriend/girlfriend.

this is the album you listen to while driving a pounding rainstorm.

this is the album you listen to while sitting on the beach with your best mates.

this is the album you listen to while driving through new england in the fall.

this is the album you listen to while you're stuck in your cubicle late on friday night working for someone who makes a helluva lot more money than you do.

trust me. buy it. live it. love it.