Mull Historical Society - City Awakenings

Remember the early 00s? UK Garage was, quite literally, booming, fashion was in a state of flux, desperately trying to escape from the 90s tie-dye but being dragged back by its baggy jeans, Pop Idol, Hearsay, Blazin’ Squad, MiniDiscs and the entire western world was in a state of panic due to the events of 9/11. The early 00s were also “the manic depressive years” in music, not in the sense that the music was gloomy (some of it was) but because they were dark years spent bleakly, blindly wading through musical mud, tempered with impulse-buying Las Ketchup after returning from an ill-advised week in ‘Shagaluf.’ You know, before The Strokes saved music (so people say). Travis, Stereophonics and the Red Hot Chili Peppers were the insipid best most people could hope for. And lurking somewhere between Idlewild and Turin Brakes, the multi instrumentalist, Colin MacIntyre, burst onto the scene under the pseudonym, Mull Historical Society.

His debut album, 'Loss', went Gold, he was voted Scotland’s Top Creative Talent at the Glenfiddich Spirit of Scotland Awards, and he toured with The Strokes, Elbow and REM. Now 10 years on from Loss, we have 'City Awakenings', produced by Dom Morley of Amy Winehouse, Mark Ronson and Grinderman fame. So it must be good, right? Wrong. City Awakenings is a loose bundle of 2001-filled nostalgia, to the point that it should come with a warning not to close your eyes because on opening them you might see Suzanne Shaw standing next to your bed, like the poltergeist in Paranormal Activity, but scarier.

The stuttering “can you let her know, it’s o-o-over” on 'Can You Let Her Know' only enforces the feeling of retrospectiveness, coming across like a mix between Gareth Gates and Frankie Cocozza. The comparison with failed talent show contestants doesn’t end there. The saccharine sounds of 'The Lights' could easily be a Louis Walsh song choice for his next mentee(s) who are slightly on the spectrum. It leaves a queasy feeling in the stomach, like foolishly eating your way through a whole bag of Haribo Star Mix on a long car journey in the sweltering summer heat. 'Must You Get Low' is a mockingly upbeat song, with a chipper chorus and keening papping horns. For anyone feeling slightly down it will only cause them to spiral deeper into resentment fuelled apathy.

With its mellifluous bluesy guitar, 'Fold Out City' is almost the redeeming song of the album. Redeeming in the sense that it doesn’t make you want to tear your ears from your head, drive to Beachy Head and commit ear suicide. 'You Can Get Better' should work as a perfect motivational tool for MacIntyre, given that you’d really hope that he can get better. And 'This Is Not My Heart' is a bold attempt at a tender, bittersweet love song, which just comes across as contrived.

City Awakenings is a Sisyphean struggle to move on from the early 00s, but it just can’t help but roll back down to the beginning of the millennia, where it belongs, toiling and wrestling with the other bands who, for the better of music, decided to stay in the dark. Now where’s my MiniDisc player?