The Charlatans
You Cross My Path
(Cooking Vinyl)
There is a commonly held and much venerated myth in rock that creativity is enhanced by hedonism. Sometimes it is, but an exact dictum this isn't, although an exacting one it most certainly can be.
Was Janis Joplin any better a star for being a druggy drunk? Was Jim Morrison? The doors of perception can be slammed shut shockingly early, or may incarcerate revelers in Sid Barrett-like suspension. Kurt Cobain blew his mind out when it was upsetting him, and Richey Manic took himself to the bridge, or so it seems.
Tim Burgess, the boy Jagger frontman of the Charlatans, knows a thing or four about saying yes to another excess. By his own admission he was traveling off the rails in perilously wrecked form, and in danger of joining "That Stupid Club." He spoked all expectations, cleaned up his act, gave up the booze with the help of the born-again dry Alan McGee (of Creation fame), and made an album straight -- unless Diet Coke counts as the new crystal meth.
A thing of rare and exquisite vitality it most certainly is. Full of beans and pithy tunes, you'd think if something this good came from being strung out, he'd never have returned to planet earth. Coming across like Pulp in collision with New Order, this record demands a lot of time from the listener. Infectious as hell, it plays with the ghosts of a Mancunian past and reanimates them with vigor and verve.
There are whiffs of the Stone Roses in "Oh Vanity," all driven drums and '60s Brian Auger organ stabs. A brilliant opener to wondrous proceedings. On "Bad Days" we have New Order gobbling Prozac with the Pet Shop Boys, whilst "Mis-takes" has a La's-like jauntiness, and a brilliant guitar motif that drives the song forward with intense energy. "The Misbegotten" is "Blue Monday" with all that it ever lacked, a decent tune. It all sounds like a band having fun, borrowing and blending things from a dizzying array of musical scrap books and memories.
"A Day for Letting Go" is a classic slice of Charlatans swaggering pop, with a Rolling Stones vibrancy. As is the title track, a song that flies from the speakers like enthusiastic birds.
"Missing Beats (Of a Generation)" is Pulp on speed, but just as you think the frenetic intensity will take your head off, "My Name Is Despair" brings proceedings down several floors. A Doors/Pink Floyd dirge, it has a brooding eloquence; part Emo-Goth, part Prog, it sounds like a death trip but has a strangely positive vibe, despite its claustrophobic power.
"Slightly worn/I was lost incomplete. My only prayer/My name is despair..."
This is Burgess dispatching his wanton demons. It has elements of I Am Kloot's equally bleak "Because." Things brighten with the breathlessly melodic "Bird," and "This Is The End" sounds like anything but, a blisteringly up-tempo song that runs ahead of itself with spirited optimistic intensity.
If this were a debut album it would be lavishly praised, but coming as it does at this advanced stage in the Charlatans' career, it won't reap such lofty plaudits. It deserves to be heard, and is a perfect lesson in the crafting of intensely enjoyable music.
You Cross My Path is an album with one foot in the past, whilst the other strides forward. Tim Burgess coming at reality from reality might have been a difficult journey for him. but he has rendered it an enjoyable experience for the listener, and that is where true greatness begins, in the ability to transcend the difficulties of one's own existence by creating an experience from which others may benefit and gain pleasure. A band that is maturing like the fine wine Burgess once enjoyed, but has now, and successfully, disavowed.