CD of the week Ash:Free All Angels
Betty Clarke
Nowadays it’s not cool to be young and enjoy it. Instead, adolescence is surrounded by negativity and teenagers bemoan the fact that they have their whole lives in front of them. Where are the head-spinning thrills, the heart-stopping lust, the celebration of golden summer holidays that seem to last for ever?
Step forward Ash, who have crystallised the pleasure and pain of being a teen. Back in 1996, when they kicked up punk-pop dust with the single Kung Fu, Tim Wheeler, Mark Hamilton and Rick McMurray were the naughtiest kids in the Britpop class. They hit the charts with their debut album, 1977. Spawning indie classics Girl from Mars and Oh Yeah, 1977 conjured up playground longings and set them to lush melodies and spiky guitars.
Following a foray into soundtracks with A Life Less Ordinary, Ash acquired a new guitarist in Charlotte Hatherley and released their second album, Nu-Clear Sounds. But the joy had evaporated into thrash and an affection for the Jesus and Mary Chain that vanquished the optimism and fun of the past.
But with Free All Angels (Infectious), Ash have rediscovered their enthusiasm. From the beginning, you know it’s going to be good. Walking Barefoot has that trademark sense of nostalgia for a time you’re still experiencing. A great festival song, it’s about relishing a perfect moment while knowing it’s about to come to an end.
The perfect pop ethic of simple, epic singalong songs continues with Shining Star, Ash’s greatest single since Girl from Mars, a celebration of someone special in sixth-form prose. World Domination is another call to arms to kids everywhere to kick off their trainers and jump up and down.
But Wheeler knows life isn’t all about good times, and Free All Angels has its share of sadness. New single Burn Baby Burn initially sounds joyful, but listen closer and you’ll hear how the nagging guitar really captures the sound of confusion in an ode to the slow death of a relationship.
The obsession with stars is still apparent in many of the songs from There’s a Star to the winsome hymn Sometimes, which blames the realignment of the stars for the loss of love.
There’s some unlikely stuff, too. On Nicole, Wheeler adopts a deranged serial-killer persona as he shouts: “I said no, I killed my baby, but I love her.” The weirdness continues in Submission, a wannabe homage to S&M that doesn’t work because Wheeler’s voice is too thin to be scary.
Free All Angels is simply great. Sometimes introspective, a bit strange, but most of all fun, it’s what being young is all about.