Album Review: Under The Surface

No Cigar is the type of band your mum would probably approve of you both seeing and joining. They’re successful, listenable, relatable and their music could be enjoyed at a BBQ, a gym, in a soundtrack and, believe it or not, a rock concert also. They attain a special and impressive mix of surf, indie, psychedelia and pop, but there’s a little bite and edge to the smoothness to be enjoyed like salt in the caramel. The band is characterized by the sometimes-strong, sometimes-fragile vocals of Willy Ferrier, whose distinctive pipes sound remarkably similar to Caleb Followill in the way they can crack emotionally, smoothly roll up to notes and glide effortlessly in a clear falsetto above the instruments below. Songs tend to bloom rather than gallop or wallop (but they do occasionally swagger) largely due to the heavenly guitars drenched in reverb performed brilliantly by Josh Morrice and Arthur Gillies. The bass and drums, played by Sam Benson and Ned Gow respectively, are largely in a supportive and clandestine role throughout the record, but there are spaces and gaps for the whole band to flex their muscles and sparkle as other elements simply fade into the surfy reverb or come to an abrupt stop to add tension, creating an accent from their withdrawal from the dance and create a sudden drop-off where, more often than not, the voice becomes the sole instrument for one tender moment before the band joyously return.

Opener Under The Surface begins with a submarine warning siren that leads the listener into a heavy hypnotic bass line before a syrupy voice warns us: “she’s under the surface; she’s making me nervous”. Indistinct voices echo in the background and the full band kicks in with the beep changing tone a few times to create a pulse that is catchy but somehow distressing.  It’s rock-pop, but with a menacing lilt. “I swear” is repeated like a warning mantra, before adds, (as if to make sure there’s no misperception here of her character) “she does it on purpose”. An opening that might suggest all things are not as rosy as they might appear and people may have hidden agendas. An interesting way to begin an album that is, for the most part, easy-going and pleasant.

Second track Clean is a little reminiscent of Arctic Monkeys, Kaiser chiefs, The Kooks, Vampire Weekend, with just a touch of The Beach Boys for good measure. The emotive voice, synths and smooth guitars creep in as a gentle drumbeat creates a wavy Morrice form of a song. There’s a sweet soulful solo early on with some tasteful vibrato. The lyrics conjure up a range of images, but it’s all indistinct like a confusing break-up: “Don’t lose your way, she prays… been doing this shit too long, it’s a battle … in the streets and the fields, all I need is a medal… caught up in the warfare of welfare.” The guitar solo ends in some incredible, black hole like delay elements, then, as if to soften the harshness, there’s some harmonized gang vocals to finish it all like a lullaby, thereby erasing the chaos the band toyed with mere seconds earlier.

Chantilly features a Supergrass style intro, moving into a sunny, surfy and sad song. There’s a great vocal break before the song begins with the quick delivery of: “Four hundred bottles better solve something quick something better come alive something better come from this, cause if it doesn’t we’ll be fucked up”. The guitars are once again soaking in rich reverb and although the effect is nice, I can’t help but wonder if the last three songs are too much the same to be chronologically arranged.

Maelstrom offers a far more jazzy approach, still utilising the deep reverb but the bass really comes alive on this tune. There’s a great push and pull dynamic to it all, but there’s an undeniable melancholy aesthetic. “Do it for the kids” Morrice sings before a fuzz drenched guitar solo lets fly.

These tracks are very well produced and mixed with an ear for melody. All of these tracks could arguably be singles; they are all potentially radio friendly. That’s not to say there isn’t some experimentation. The country tinged Oh Behave starts like a ballad with some incredible falsetto, and even whistling. Russian Roulette has an interesting flange effect on the bass, and the vocals are delivered in a breathy, conspiratorial manner about dangerous obsession.

Not all songs would operate in a rock concert setting, such as Problem which, compared to the other tracks, seems very intimate and close. Here, the main inspiration is indie rock, especially when Morrice admits lines like “I suffer temptation” or the autobiographical, “I’m having some issues … phone some friends, make some songs and we get through”.

Merci Merci demonstrates the most riff like introduction on the record so far, but instead of transforming into a fully-fledged rock song it swings into smooth jazz characterised by breathy vocals, before surprising the listener to become the rock song it implied earlier. There’s even some French dialogue in the bridge accompanied by some sparse drums and expressive acoustic guitar.

Cherry Blossom Girl has some unusual rhythms and some unorthodox tone, but somehow it all works. “Fighting for breath I head for the smokers room, don’t give me that flavour, too hot to handle … something to savour” are lyrics that stick out, implying an emotional, mournful memory of a girl who might “burn out the entire world”. Funky.

Best Behaviour is a reggae tinged ballad and seems like the listener is nearing the end of a journey or we are turning a page on a chapter. “True love is to be truthful half the time” warns Morrice in a bittersweet voice perhaps hiding pain from first-hand experience. You can’t help feeling emotional when lines such as “Holding on to a time where I belong, but I’m reminded that times are lonely” are delivered atop a wonderfully mixed and rather orchestral band.

The last part of the album begins to turn up the tempo and volume. Mary Jane has a bass driven introduction and unfolds into a song where guitar lines slither, hypnotic drum rhythms hold an unsteady structure and interesting vocal melodies are employed to great effect. There’s some tasty Clapton-like leads, and although the road is technically rock it’s still pretty smooth. The lilting “so swings a girl from the night her name’s Mary Jane” fits the imagery of the song perfectly.

Album closer Ketamine features some fairly distorted tones built around a drone-like note. “I need something from my doctor; I need something from the priest” is sung with urgency above the surging riffs in syncopated syllables.

All in all, Under The Surface is hard to fault as a successful aim to please the most amount of people in a room. Some might like it harder, some might think it’s too rumbustious, but these people would be in the minority. There’s lots to enjoy here, and while it certainly is on the smooth size, there’s nothing stopping this band from generating an eager crowd to dance to these numbers that somehow mix the finest elements of rock, pop and surf. Brilliant stuff.