Pooled from a collection of London-area musicians who contributed to bands like the caustically punky
Sniffany & the Nits as well as glum pop groups like
Ex-Voeid and
Joanna Gruesome,
the Tubs represent yet another facet of songwriters
Owen Williams and
George Nicholls. Building on the fuzzy melodic indie rock and post-punk angles of some of their other associated acts,
the Tubs add new layers to their sound with hints of
Flying Nun-styled jangle pop melancholy, rough-edged pub rock, and even undercurrents of U.K. folk. Debut album
Dead Meat follows two singles, and while it clips by at a concise nine songs, the record offers a definitive representation of all of the band's different sides. The album opens with the rumbly, abrasive bass lines and jarringly catchy choruses of "Illusion, Pt. 2," tying together
Pylon's angular drive and
Felt's mysterious melodicism with the traditionalism and stoic performance sensibilities of
Fairport Convention. It's a strange combination of sounds, to be sure, but
the Tubs deliver it confidently and directly. The hooks of the frustrated yet upbeat romp "I Don't Know How It Works" recall the same stir of confused emotions
the Chills exhibited on their best work, while "Sniveller" relies on a more straightforward punk-funk groove that explodes into fits of sarcasm. This song plays up the U.K. folk accents even further when fellow
Joanna Gruesome/
Ex-Voeid contributor
Lan McArdle's crystalline vocals counterbalance the ugliness the song revels in. More spirited jangle and impassioned vocal harmonies make "Duped" one of the record's best songs, and
Dead Meat closes out with the tightly wound, goth-tinged rocker "Wretched Lie." The album is a grower, and its odd confluence of reference points is better absorbed than examined. Getting too caught up on the particulars how U.K. folk and jangly college rock fit together only distracts from
the Tubs' neat presentation of their first batch of deceptively complex and solidly constructed tunes. ~ Fred Thomas