After a pair of bracingly combative EPs, and some incendiary live shows on their first visit to the UK a year ago, Melbourne’s Amyl and the Sniffers were suddenly the great hopes of rock’n’roll: guitars on full, drums thundering, lyrics barked and gleefully dumb. Still, it was hard not to wonder whether this was a bubble, sure to burst, or something that might last longer. Their debut full-length doesn’t provide an answer.
There’s a bit more subtlety and imagination here than on the EPs – the lead guitar line of Angel, melodic and sinuous, backed by surf-rock dum dum-dum drums – but it’s an album that’s all about the moment, a blunt-force trauma of a record. The force has been increased: Ross Orton’s production turns the Sniffers from a hammer into a wrecking ball, but it also makes the album a bit tiring. Without the extraordinary on-stage charisma of Amy Taylor, too, you don’t have the visceral excitement of the live experience: it can only be all about the music.
And that music is fun, but limited. The riffs are good (Starfire 500, Gacked on Anger, and Got You all stand out), but they’re never pin-you-to-the-wall great. The songs are brief, so there’s no risk of an outstayed welcome. It’s not Amyl and the Sniffers’ fault they get treated like a second coming – more a reflection on how little great rock’n’roll there is right now – but it’s done them no favours. With no fanfare, this would have been a really decent record. With the praise they’ve had, they’d have had to make a new Powerage not to disappoint.
