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‘Orton’s Intro’ does what it says on the tin, opening the debut with distorted riffs, mental cymbal bashing and swirling synths. ‘What If’s & Maybe’s’ is a thrashing proletarian marvel of wonky teeth and acne where former single ‘Woolley Bridge’ demonstrates some Buzzcocks influences, telling tales of posh Surrey lasses getting their “wotsit waxed”. ‘Going Round To Have A Word’ and ‘Poppy Bird’ are bi-polar, the former being the aggressive mentalist trait to the latter’s gentle infatuation – even though it does use the not entirely pleasing diction of the “Walthamstow” district 10 times.
The middle section of ‘Fight Music For The Fight, ‘Lesly Parlafitt’, ‘One Nautical Mile’ and ‘Rosey Lee’ are demonstrable of the trio’s range and ability, both in lyricism and arrangement – although it’s easy to suspect that neither of these things are deliberately “good” on their part. ‘Rosey Lee’ in particular is a surprising chapter on this album. Simple yet really distressing and gritty – the narrative of a girl who would have been dubbed an ‘unfortunate’ had this been nineteenth century London.
‘He Likes Them Airbrushed’ is quite frankly hilarious – a snappy kick in the knackers to those who hanker after the identikit perfection of glossy magazine iconography. Indeed, “Will she still be your Angelina Jolie/When she farts in bed?” ‘My Prime Time Kid” will relate to anyone who knocks about with musicians and ‘Trip To The Golden Arches’ is fairly prosaic in its title and the least lyrically imaginative track on the disc. Yet with its thumping intro and chord-driven background it’s not to be totally ignored.
‘Hazy In Yateley/ Homical Homosexual Jungle Cat’ closes the gates to the album with assorted yelps, alliterative shouting and vigorous guitar abuse. Like the majority of what is coming out of New Yorkshire, ‘Dits From The Commuter Belt’ is intrinsically British, likely to baffle anyone that resides where you have to cross a significant stretch of water. With casual mentions of Prince Naseem, Maida Vale, traffic jams, remembrance poppies and moist poppadoms you will find nothing fantastical or dreamy – it’s coarse, unpretentious, rarely unremarkable and sitting just this side of shambolic. Tremendous!
