Arab Strap Album: "The Last Romance" Release Date: Oct 18, 2005 Label: Chemikal Underground Rev Value: [7.0/10] Genre: Rock Styles: Slowcore, Indie Rock, Sadcore Buy It

Tracklist:

1. Stink
2. If There's No Hope For Us
3. Don't Ask Me To Dance
4. Confessions of a Big Brother
5. Come Round and Love Me
6. Speed Date
7. Dream Sequence
8. Fine Tuning
9. There Is No Ending

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review by:Playlouder
reviewer: Iain Moffat
Album Value: (5/5)

While the biggest band of the mid-90s have been quite content to re-emerge this year with a record unthrillingly unswerving from their long-established template, aggrandizing their own idleness in the process, a number of the bands that emerged in that fertile era have suddenly shown a trifle more imagination. Hence, 2005's seen a troubled Low rocketing away from their slowcore shackles, and given us the Stereophonics finally leaving the pub after all these years for the more exotic climes of 'Dakota'. And now, in a manoeuvre even more unexpected than the aforementioned, it's thrown up an Arab Strap album that, while unlikely to be mistaken for the new Rachel Stevens set by anyone at all, is the pair's Outstanding Pop Statement. Honestly.

Clearly, working apart - an endeavour that's borne most fruit on the ceaselessly amazing 'Into The Woods' - has done both Malcolm Middleton and Aidan Moffat a power of good. They've resumed their partnership suitably galvanised and, while the Strap hadn't yet begun to sound tired as it is, there's a lot more life to this than we've heard from them before. 'The Last Romance' is decidedly brisk, clocking in at around 36 minutes, but is filled with many of the most singalong tracks they've ever recorded - and, yes, Aidan really can sing these days, in something of a dark croon, admittedly, and perhaps a slightly acquired taste, but a real leap onwards from the bleak beat poetry of previous recordings. It also includes a number of songs that wouldn't sound out of place in today's indie-friendlier fab 40, such as the recent 'Dream Sequence' single, with its lovely piano cascades, or '(If There's) No Hope For Us', which bears an uncommon resemblance to the Kaiser Chiefs' 'Modern Way' and is one of the first of their numbers that could ever finds itself in the same sentence as the words "naggingly infectious" without that being a reference to thrush or somesuch.

Most significantly of all, perhaps, is the strong female presence on this album. It's entirely explicit on the aforementioned '...No Hope...' and 'Come Round And Love Me' with their inclusion of infuriatingly uncredited (on PlayLouder's copy, at least) guest vocals, but, furthermore, after years of thwarted relationships it finally sounds in many cases here as if Moffat has turned a corner; 'Stink' admits to an unwillingness to settle for a seamier way of life in the long run, while 'Fine Tuning' is a touching take on a very committed coupling, with even parenthood being very seriously considered. Standout track 'Speed-Date', meanwhile, is joyously, unanticipatedly dismissive of swinging, cheap sex and familiar grubbiness in favour of - blimey! - a sense-of-wonder-filled love of monogamy. There's still plenty to appeal to hardcore Strapophiles, of course, like the blurrily avant-garde stylings of 'Confessions Of A Big Brother' and the uniquely dazzling accordion-and-sung and spoken-vocals-fest that is 'Chat In Amsterdam, Winter 2003', but there's no denying the more fundamental impact of this record: with 'The Last Romance', a whole lot of people are at last going to fall in love with Arab Strap for the very first time.

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review by:Pitchfork
reviewer: Matthew Murphy, October 19, 2005
Album Value: (8.0/10)

For the men of Arab Strap, the concept of romance has always been a favorite joke. Over the course of their discography, Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton have explored romance as an abstract notion constructed of the sordid lies people tell in order to pair off and-- as Aidan put it in one variation-- "go home and make a mess." On The Last Romance, their sixth proper studio album, Arab Strap present another song cycle detailing the craggy terrain that separates gloriously tawdry, dead-end sex from more lasting, mature (i.e. boring) relationships. But this time something wholly unexpected occurs, as the duo's notorious self-deprecating gloom here begins to lift, allowing the briefest rays of romantic comfort and satisfaction to flicker in the distance.

Throughout The Last Romance, Arab Strap's more familiar lyrical themes are thankfully bolstered by their boldest and most assured music to date, as they build confidently on the advances made on 2003's Monday at the Hug & Pint. Gone entirely are their once-frequent plunky drum machines, replaced by a skillfully balanced array of piano, strings, and horns. And though as a vocalist Moffat remains his curmudgeonly limited self, never before have his vocals been so thoughtfully integrated into Middleton's arrangements-- check the way his croon expertly mirrors the cello on "Confessions of a Big Brother"-- giving these performances an effortless, dyed-in-wool cohesion that their earlier pint-fuelled narratives sometimes lacked.

Over the years, Arab Strap have recorded an astonishing number of songs set in beds with dirty sheets, so the sleazy jolt of "Stink" opens The Last Romance in well-established territory, and with Moffat's customary disinterest in foreplay. "Strangers waking up in the Monday morning stink/ Of course I feel sick, but it's not why you think," he sings over formidably roiling guitars, postponing for a moment the album's newfound streak of tenderness. Equally uneasy are tracks like the propulsive "(If There's) No Hope For Us" and "Chat in Amsterdam, Winter 2003", a heartsick, drumless mutter which eventually opens out into impressively dissonant smears of guitar while Moffat glumly intones, "If we're having so much fun than how come I'm crying every Monday?/ Is it just to cancel out the laughter from Thursday 'til Sunday?" (...)

Full Review

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review by: Contact Music
reviewer: Sharon Edge
Album Value: (-/-)

The sixth studio album from Scots Aidan and Malcolm and it's pretty much what you'd expect. It's apparent from the opening track - Stink - that their pre-occupations are still with the grimly realistic, dirty details of everyday life and love. Chat in Amsterdam, Winter 2003 is a strangely compelling track with a heavily accented, almost spoken vocal and screeching, distorted guitars. It's as thudding and grey as a hangover on a February morning, but has the distinction of being the only song I know that mentions Trisha.

The album then immediately springs to life with some jangly guitar and breathy singing with 'Don't Ask Me to Dance'. The vibe here is more laid back than miserable and the song has that Arab Strap intimacy - almost as if the words are extracts from a diary being whispered into your ear. 'Speed-Date' sounds cheerful enough but its description of 'ugly tattooed swingers' ensures the album stays firmly grounded in murky bars and backrooms. Full of emotional twists and turns and set against a bleak musical landscape, loyal fans will surely not be disappointed.

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review by: FasterLouder
reviewer: carlos esq
Album Value: (-/-)

When this boy with the new Arab Strap first played The Last Romance he knew what to expect. Yeah, yeah more alcohol drenched tales of the failings of love and sex, and nothing in-between. Arab Strap is like your favourite old
regular down at your local – you’ve heard all his tales a thousand times but that doesn’t make it any less essential. In fact the band seem so set in their ways that they can add a hint of happiness to their repertoire and call it progress.

Mind you, just a hint.

The Last Romance, the duo’s sixth studio album, is being touted as their �happy record’. If you were to believe that, though, you’d probably also believe the regular when he says he could have it off with any lass he desired. Malcolm Middleton and Aidan Moffat perhaps do have reason to be a little more upbeat given recent critical acclaim for solo projects and 2003’s Monday Night at the Hug and Pint but Moffat’s gruff Scottish brogue and stare into your half-empty not half-full pint mutterings just wouldn’t be the same were he to sound cheery.

It must be said that lyrically, yes, Moffat deals now with not only love lost but the genuine feeling of love. Musically, the single Dream Sequence resembles the atmospherics of Coldplay, which I suppose could be construed as happy, or pleasant, or, um, unnecessary.

If the album displays any notable development it is in the melding of the lyrical prowess of Moffat with the increasingly poignant music, largely Middleton’s domain. While Moffat should never be considered a singer as such, he has at last learnt to hold a tune consistent with his musical-backing. If you can get past his thickly accented croon, you will no doubt be captivated by the duty of care in which Moffat’s vocals are integrated into Middleton's arrangements.

Effortless melodies and sing-along choruses suggest maybe coherency is the key to The Last Romance. But then, just how coherent can pint-fuelled narratives be? Arab Strap may have toned down the doom and gloom but their music remains a sort of seductive misery. You simply cannot deny(...)

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review by: Popmatters
reviewer: Josh Berquist
Album Value: (8/10)

I oftentimes find myself peering into pints observing foam dissipate into still amber. What strikes me most about this process is that I cannot discern its aesthetic value. There is surely some appeal otherwise it would not prove so captivating. Yet my fondness for the sight is rarely shared so it may merely be beer lust. Admittedly my love of lager is such that any assessment stemming from or surrounding its consumption is surely biased beyond fairness. The whole display may not be attractive at all but I still find myself delighted by the sight of every bubble bursting.

It is this same quandary that grips me now as I consider Tanglewood Numbers. My fondness for Silver Jews rivals my lager love and the frequency with which both are intermingled further muddles any appraisal. Most immediately Tanglewood's surprising stridency struck me as impossibly beautiful and astonishingly inspiring. It was love at first listen and the stumbling onset of the album still unleashes a flood of joy. So zealous is my conviction in the grandeur of this record that it arouses skepticism. If I'm the lone punk in the beerlight fixated on foam, I may also be the only guy in the room who openly confesses that all my favorite singers couldn't sing.

Many aspects of the record are far from readily appreciable. Elemental Jew David Berman remains faithful to an aesthetic that rarely concedes to casual listeners. While these songs rock and rollick more straightforwardly than their predecessors, they still hover somewhere between country hayride and indie heyday. Unwilling to yield exclusive appeal to either genre, they run the risk of satisfying neither and alienating both.

Berman's voice has always been an acknowledged liability and age has not improved upon that shortcoming. That the stately balladry of Bright Flight which framed his unapologetically plain singing to a degree approaching conventional beauty has been sacrificed to raucous rockers that outpace his cadence and leave him straining only exacerbates the problem. It's endearing to those of us who fall for that kind of thing but others may not be able to get past it.

Of course substance has always held primacy over presentation for Silver Jews. David Berman isn't a singer-songwriter so much as he is a writer who sometimes sings. Deliberately considered and concise, his wordplay defines and distinguishes his art. His way with a loaded one-liner is unprecedented and his sense of humor unrivaled. Yet his is a casual genius that sometimes belies him with the appearance of veering from superficially funny to eye-rollingly obtuse. Tanglewood again offers little concession here as Berman comes up considerably shorter on lyrics and takes even greater liberties with the lines he lays down. The surreal imagery of Bright Flight is reigned in but replaced by overt over-simplifications and obvious rhymes. "Punks in the Beerlight" bemoans "it gets really, really bad" and "K-Hole" stoops so low as to state "I'd rather live in a trash can/ Than see you happy with another man". Contrasting with the consistency of earlier efforts, mere cleverness is allowed to suffice where meaning was once insisted upon.(...)

Full Review

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review by: Manchester Online
reviewer: Iain Hepburn
Album Value: (4/5)

RAW, tender, emotional, charming, filthy... Arab Strap manage to be all of these, usually within the space of a single song. And, it's wonderful to report, The Last Romance is no different.

Outside of great 90s writer Gordon Legge and the Irn Bru producing Barr family, Arab Strap are perhaps the most significant thing to come out of Falkirk. One of the mainstays of the Chemikal Underground label, they've been charting the dark and dirty side of life and love for the last decade or so.

Actually, Chat in Amsterdam, Winter 2003 - which comes across like a piece of poetry, backed by a discordant accordian and the occasional burst of guitar - sounds very like one of Legge's short stories set to music. There must be something in the water supply at Brockville.

It's one of ten tracks on this short and bittersweet album, which flirts briefly with almost conventional CU pop stylings while still retaining that diverse post-folk sound.

Drawl

Aiden Moffatt's vocals, retaining that typically central belt drawl, never lose their ability to charm and repulse in equal measures - most notably on the opening track Stink, which really has to be listened to to be appreciated: words alone don't do it justice.

Don't Ask Me to Dance sounds dangerously close to an anthem with its 80s REM construction, while the soft, melodic and twisted Confessions of a Big Brother offers immediate contrast, comprising for the most part just Moffat's dark folk singing and the scarily versatile Malcolm Middleton on guitar.

And you have to admire the attitude of a band who can call their closing track - a surprisingly upbeat piece at that - There Is No Ending. Sadly, in this case, there is. But it's a fine ending to a fine album.

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