Take the sunny, slidy guitar licks of Mac Demarco, the dulcet rumblings (and carrot top) of King Krule, and the cheeky geezer rap of Jamie T - sugar, spice, and everything nice - and you have Only Real. West Londoner Niall Galvin - not like the river, but like the Irish one in 1D - has conjured up a debut with as much fizz as a shaken up champagne bottle.
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| photo creds: NME |
Free-spirited baggy pop is indented in every groove of Jerk At The End Of The Line, giving a ballsy twist to slacker rock. Opening with Twist It Up, a looping 90s-flared ditty that draws similarities to the dainty daydreaming of later track Backseat Kissers, a peculiar level of intrigue is set. Then the record plunges into the classic theme of 'fuck-I'm-in-my-late-teens-to-early-20s', accentuated by teasing vocals and commonplace tales of messing about, i.e. in the almost-titular track Jerk. If that Caribbean Twist alco-pop you used to drink when you were sixteen could sing, it'd probably sound something like this festival-ready soundtrack. Feeding the tongue-in-cheek lyrics that gave the album its name (baby when did you get so fine? / if you missed me, I'm the jerk at the end of the line), Jerk is Only Real at his indie-ska finest.
He brings the lo-fi hip-hop side out of him most prominently on the reworked version of Blood Carpet, heavy with saliva spits and floppy jingles. Yet he easily flips back to cutesy ska on the hyperactive sugar rush Pass The Pain, Daisychained - it's okay baby, we're crooks too - and Yesterdays, with its layers upon layers of easy breezy riffs. These vintage-tinged riffs are also favoured in closing track When This Begins, which starts with harmonies and minimalist production that could have come straight off of a Jungle demo.
The 22-year-old's biggest hitter, Cadillac Girl, gets stuck in your head for days on end. There's a certain psychedelic seriousness that's championed by essentially odd lyrics - e.g. the quick succession of too late / few days / shirt off / Kool-Aid (and whatever else he says... something about screw face, or some equal sort of slang...). The rythmic rap gathers the distance of lost love - "oh she's so over me / she's so cold" - as the summery synths take a step back into an undercover kind of sadness.
The instrumental of Petals seems to be haunted by more of a Casper the Friendly Ghost-esque ghoul but steps away from UK-centric grime to a spit with more of an American hip-hop flair, whereas Break It Off may have lackadaisical verses but the chorus is a heavy, resentful chant. Seemingly written from a place of nebulous disturbance, Can't Get Happy covers these dirt tracks of raw emotion with addictive beats and massive percussion. Though with a first listen the melancholy could be overlooked, it's actually all over Only Real's debut making it more complex than meets the eye... Or in this case, the ear. Nevertheless, Jerk At The End Of The Line marks the impending breakthrough of an underrated British talent.
JERK AT THE END OF THE LINE IS AVAILABLE NOW ON VIRGIN EMI RECORDS
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