Shout Out Louds - 'Our Ill Wills' (Weekender) Released 12/05/08

Sometimes an album sounds fun on first listen, and then repeated plays reveal a previously hidden ripe underbelly of symphonic treats and aural pleasures. ‘Our Ill Wills’ doesn’t. It’s rather nice, but there are puddles with more depth. The darling harmonies and summery arrangements that typified debut album ‘Howl Howl Gaff Gaff’ are present and correct, as is the endearing lyrical optimism and naivety. Shout Out Louds know about heartache, romance, that indistinguishable period between the two, plus the bit before and the time after. And they’ll be damned if they are going to write a song about anything else.

Just in case the band weren’t twee enough, they rope in Bjorn again – the Peter, Bjorn and John member and long-time Shout Out Louds producer, not the Abba tribute – to sprinkle the catchy stardust of ‘Young Folks’ onto the likes of ‘Impossible’ and ‘Tonight I Have To Leave It.’ These added pop sensibilities ensure the songs are never less than listenable, but they rarely rise to include anything remotely affecting.

The record was actually released last year in most of the world, and appears to have been astutely held back to wait for the sunshine months. Songs such as ‘Suit Yourself’ and ‘Normandie’ owe much to The Cure’s blueprint of probing pop mystery, all uplifting vagueness, bouncy bass and handclaps.

The most sparse, remote song on show is ‘Meat Is Murder’, not a Smiths cover, but a homage including lines like “Everything sounds miserable tonight.” Another dark moment arrives with ‘Time Left To Love’, but the tale of loss is still sparkling pop. “The rumours said it was a serial killer/but they got hit by a caterpillar,” wins the Lou Reed Award for throwaway lyrics to deal with serious issues, and by this stage the vulnerable vocals and sheer musical gaiety is really grating.

Strangely, the album-defining moment comes courtesy of keyboardist Bebban Stenborg’s only lead vocal. On ‘Blue Headlights’ her dainty, rosy voice sails over a delicate little acoustic loop, spinning tales of “surprising eyes,” “ladybirds,” and “frozen hearts,” before gently asking “come on everybody, take your love to town.” The song is drenched in heartfelt, but ultimately trashy, loveliness; it’s so sweet it’s sickening.

This is a petite piece of pop, delightfully delivered by a harmless, charming collective. A daydream, it may attach you like a flower in your lover’s hair, but fall out of your mind just as easily and insignificantly. It’s an album to fall in love to, but not with.