Crocodiles – Endless Flowers

As someone who, from time to time, has been known to defend the record geeks behind indie rock and the whole ‘new music through archaeology’ formula, I find it frustrating every time I hear another album milked from the same old recipe – Phil Spector, Velvet Underground, Beach Boys, Doors – which brings little in terms of personality to the table.

In a caricature of the 00's garage rock revival, Crocodiles third album, Endless Flowers, squeezes such worn down fossils of 60’s bubblegum/ rock n’ roll through a hissing, monochrome filter of avant garde noisiness. The extreme contrast between softly crooned cheese and gritty lo-fi production goes some way to making up for their lifting of melodies and clichéd song templates, but ends up short of the mark. The problem is, even the production is knackered – this shoegaze/ Spector ‘Wall Of Sound’ thing really has been used to death.

However, Crocodiles do seem to have the potential to move things onto the next level, and occasional moments of outright experimental carnage make a welcome break from Ramones-like banality. The intro to ‘My Surfing Lucifer’, for instance, although the album’s most challenging listen (not to mention piss-your-pants terrifying), is maybe the closest moment Crocodiles come to originality. ‘Hung Up On A Flower’, a surprisingly successful crack at an anthem, also provides a glimpse at future potential. Unfortunately, when the novelties on your album are the only things worthy of true praise, its not a good sign.

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