Halfway through Tired Of Hanging Around’s second song the nightmares about The Zutons’ ‘difficult second album’ seem to be coming horribly to life. Following the turgid rock sound of the title track opener, Dave McCabe is addressing the burning subject of hangovers in the similarly gloopy 'It’s The Little Things We Do'. He sings, almost unbelievably, “I go downstairs and try to make a sandwich/ The ham and cheese, the margarine speak an evil language/ They say, ‘Don’t eat me, I don’t deserve to be on your stomach.’/ I break down and cry, ‘Why did the good times turn to bummers?’â€
Well, quite. You wonder if things can get any worse. Fortunately for all concerned they don’t. Although ‘Tired Of Hanging Around’ sounds like a band struggling to shake off the pressures of following up the far-reaching success of their debut, the album contains enough decent songs to offer hope for the future. One of those songs, 'Valerie', comes as a sharp relief after the opening salvo. A good-time seventies number, with a big, sing-a-long chorus, it’s the best song on the album and demonstrates McCabe’s song-writing is capable of maturing from the infectious pop littered throughout 'Who Killed The Zutons?'.
'Someone To Watch Over Me', with it’s Stonesy gospel-country feel, and the Shangri-Laesque 'Secrets', are sound exercises in style, helping rescue a Side A rounded off by the forgettable 'How Does It Feel?'. Stomp-along single ‘Why Won’t You Give You My Love?’ opens up Side B and is a definite grower. It’s also one of several songs on the album benefiting from Abi Harding’s singing, rather than saxophone playing, being pushed to the foreground.
'Oh Stacey (Look What You’ve Done!)' is a kind of bookend to ‘Valerie’. Both are tales of troubled ladies plucked from McCabe’s pool of Liverpool characters, but where ‘Valerie’ takes its cue from Slade, ‘Oh Stacey…’ successfully nods to the ‘plastic soul’ of Bowie, and is perhaps the song which comes closest to capturing the upbeat vitality of their previous album. However, after regaining some momentum, the album peters out somewhat to its conclusion. ‘You’ve Got A Friend In Me’ is a (kind of) duet between an anonymous stalker (McCabe) and the object of his affection (Harding). However, like the protagonist’s obsession, it doesn’t really go anywhere.
‘Hello Conscience’, falls into the same trap as the album’s opening. Production is turned up to ‘big rock’ levels, but only succeeds in sounding a little hollow. The energy of the song when put in the context of a pumping Zutons live set is lost on record. The song also returns to McCabe’s primary lyrical thread on the album – going out too much and feeling a bit grumpy the next day. Whilst such an occurrence may have defined his life post - 'Who Killed…' it doesn’t make very interesting subject matter for the listener. He sounds far more accomplished when shifting the focus onto other characters.
The ambigious lament of ‘I Know I’ll Never Leave’, featuring a verse bearing more than a passing resemblance to ‘Ain’t No Sunshine’ is a subdued end to the LP. It’s certainly not a bad song, but sounds, for some reason, a little incongruous as an album closer. It leaves the impression of an album that, whilst containing some strong songs, never really hangs together as a coherent long player.
