Reverend And The Makers - 'The State of Things' (Wall of Sound) Released 17/09/07

Some records you hate on sight; maybe it’s not so much the record itself but the twat hanging from it as a centre piece; the fog horn  and mouth piece that is Jon McClure, aka Johnny Borrell in brand new adidas. This is the kind of record that plods along lulling you into a full sense of security that Alex Turner’s mate, McClure, is of the people, for the people. ‘The State Of Things’ appears to be either a miscalculated satire on the misgivings of those he assumes less fortunate, or else an attempt to appeal to the same contingent, with tongue firmly planted in cheek. This is McClure positioning himself in the bad side of town, empathising with these poor unfortunate people, whilst he drinks with them and laughs at them.

In the same way that Kate Nash is ‘bittah’, The Reverend and his Makers are ‘fulla it’; title track, ‘The State Of Things’ is McClure on form, preaching to this presumed Sun reading, pub dwelling, Carlsberg drinking imagined contingent whose inbred mentality means the containment of sexual transmitted diseases via their best mate’s girlfriend. ‘Bandits’ follows the pub antics of our anti-hero, a tale of a night spent on the fruit machine, backed by jivesy crappy fruit machine crazy-frog tunesmithery, and featuring a horrendous mobile interlude- shesssh is this a record? Mock reggae number ‘Open Your Window’ is the possible soundtrack for Tim Westwood cruising into the opening credits of ‘Pimp My Ride’ in a shitty banger. The state of things just got worse.

‘He Said He Loved Me’ is surprisingly hidden down in track 8 position; their arrogance presuming that the track isn’t the cream of the album. ‘What The Milkman Saw’ is like watching Waynetta Slob (via Enfield and Friends) tell the world she wants a brown baby. "She’s had a black one, she’s had a white one, she’s had a brown one" - yuk!

This is an album feasting on a world with no marinated olives, focaccia bread and frappicinos; it’s a world where entrepreneurs take the piss out of others, whilst making money off their backs. It’s not big and it’s not clever. It will however, with its badly produced backing tracks and un-Arctics excuse for musicality, sell by the pint load. It does what it says on the tin? Foretelling a repulsed State of the Country? Yes, we have just reached a new low.