With their foppish hair and dandyish charisma, Birmingham band Peace are regularly heralded as descendants of Britpop. With the exception of its brilliantly baggy rhythm section and Mansunish moments, however, Happy People lacks the swagger of its predecessors. Musically and ideologically, its intentions are a little conflicting: there’s a willingness to throw away a curious, cool groove into a generic anthemic abyss, and its world-conquering optimism is often negated by tales of fragility and doubt. It does however, offer counsel to their crowd: from the body-conscious Perfect Skin to the rejection of male stereotypes in I’m a Girl, this album caters to their teen audience, and its more rudimental lyrics may well work when smothered in live distortion. It’s an album that hints at greatness – such as World Pleasure, a seductive, serpentine thrill – but ultimately seems confused by its looming self-conciousness.
