Half Man Half Biscuit Albums (5)
What The Critics Say
Who could have guessed in 1985 that not only would Half Man Half Biscuit be the only one of the then-current crop of U.K. indie guitar bands -- those retroactively and often erroneously referred to as C-86 bands -- still recording in more or less their original incarnation, but that they would also release one of their finest albums a full 20 years after The Trumpton Riots. Achtung Bono is a start-to-finish joy that combines all of singer/songwriter Nigel Blackwell's ongoing themes: small town British life, the vagaries of popular culture, taking the piss out of the often self-important British indie rock scene, and the forms and themes of his beloved traditional country and folk music. There's also a greater level of warmth for his characters on the part of the notoriously acerbic Blackwell, best captured in the spirited album closer "We Built This Village on a Trad. Arr. Tune." Besides tweaking the pompous Starship hit of the mid-'80s, the brilliantly dense, punning lyrics are downright affectionate in their portrayal of the quirks of the town's residents. Not that Blackwell has lost his edge: "Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo" castigates the Libertines so thoroughly that Pete Doherty probably cried when he heard it. It also includes a verse so magnificently Blackwellesque that it deserves quoting in full: "If you're going to quote from the Book of Revelation/Don't keep calling it 'The Book Of Revelations'/There's no 's' - it's the Book of Revelation/As revealed to Saint John the Divine/See also: Mary Hopkin/She must despair." Add in the brief reworking of the football terrace chant "You only sing when you're winning" -- copping bits of folk tunes and jingles is a long-held HMHB tradition -- and "Shit Arm, Bad Tattoo" could be the quintessential Half Man Half Biscuit song. That is, aside from the equally brilliant "Joy Division Oven Gloves," a daffy bit of sardonic surrealism that sounds weirdly prescient since early 2007 when sneaker manufacturer New Balance introduced a limited-edition trainer that uses the cover art from Unknown Pleasures as a design motif. Add in moderately sincere lost love tunes like "For What Is Chatteris" and pop culture japes like "The Mate of the Bloke Who Set Up the PA" and Achtung Bono is a strong contender for Half Man Half Biscuit's best work yet. ~ Stewart Mason, All Music Guide
'McIntyre, Treadmore & Davitt'
Release Date 9/22/2003
Tracks 10
Label Probe Plus
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What The Critics Say
Surprising just about everyone by suddenly reuniting in 1990 (minus keyboard player Simon Blackwell), Half Man Half Biscuit released their second proper album the following year and surprised their fan base even more. Gone is the scrappy, Fall-like grind of the band's early sound, replaced by a far more mid-tempo, lower-voltage and slightly folk-rocky vibe, closer to the likes of Lloyd Cole or the Woodentops. The change was enough to turn off those already nostalgic for the brashness of the C-86 era, but closer inspection proved that even though the songs are both slower and longer, that cosmetic change only gave singer/songwriter Nigel Blackwell a broader canvas for his increasingly complex, multi-layered lyrics. By this point in the band's career, Blackwell's lyrical focus is on turning ordinary everyday life into crackpot, surreal poetry through near-obsessive punning and pop culture references, but there's a newfound empathy to songs like "PragVEC at the Melkweg" and "Girlfriend's Finished with Him," mining genuine feeling out of the scenes of unemployed Liverpool life much as Chris Difford managed during Squeeze's heyday. Even more overtly comic tunes like the opening "Outbreak of Vitas Gerulaitis" have a more low-key, reflective quality, due in part to Blackwell's greater facility with memorable melodies. ~ Stewart Mason, All Music Guide
'Trouble Over Bridgwater'
Release Date 5/23/2000
Tracks 16
Label Import
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What The Critics Say
A solid leap over 1998's lackluster Four Lads Who Shook the Wirral, Trouble Over Bridgwater kicks out of the gates with one of Nigel Blackwell's all-time greats, a celebration of pop music in all its forms called "Irk the Purists." A call to like what you like whether it's hipster-approved or not, based on the tune of the hymn "Hosanna to the King of Kings" (with a bridge copped from the transcendentally naff 1983 Europop hit "Agadoo" by Black Lace), "Irk the Purists" could well be Half Man Half Biscuit's spiritual theme song. The word spiritual isn't bandied about lightly, for the next track, "Uffington Wassail," continues Blackwell's recent interest in Biblical allusion in the service of his increasingly ornate character studies of village life in the northwest of England. On a more secular level, "Twenty Four Hour Garage People" (interpolating a bit of the folk standard "In the Pines") and "It's Clichéd to Be Cynical at Christmas" are among Blackwell's most effective social commentaries, and his ongoing string of tweaks to the self-obsessed and stylish continues apace with "With Goth on Our Side," the deadpan dance music parody "Nove on the Sly," and the downright evil mockery of "The Ballad of Climie Fisher," a surreal, half-spoken fantasia on the demise of a particularly egregious '80s chart pop duo set to a lovely circular acoustic guitar figure. Overall, an entirely solid addition to Half Man Half Biscuit's later catalog, nearly as good as 2005's outstanding Achtung Bono. ~ Stewart Mason, All Music Guide
'Voyage to the Bottom of the Road'
Release Date 1/1/1997
Tracks 14
Label Probe Plus
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What The Critics Say
Voyage to the Bottom of the Road is a pivotal point in the Half Man Half Biscuit catalog, the album where singer/songwriter Nigel Blackwell's interest in American and English folk music starts to take precedence over the straightforward indie pop of their previous albums. The back cover even features photos of personal heroes like A.P. Carter and early hillbilly singer Riley Puckett mixed with historical personages like the great Antarctic explorer Admiral Ernest Shackleton, along with a random quote from the average freak folk fan's favorite movie, The Wicker Man. So naturally, the album kicks off with the single most grinding, noisy tune of the band's career, the thumping, feedback-driven "A Shropshire Lad," which would fit perfectly on any late-era album by the Fall. But following that atypical opener, nearly half the album is taken up with folky, acoustic tunes like the journalist-baiting "Bad Review," the trendy musician-baiting "Deep House Victims Minibus Appeal," and the everyone-baiting "Tonight Matthew, I'm Going to Be with Jesus." Elsewhere, "He Who Would Valium Take" finds Blackwell writing new lyrics for the familiar Anglican hymn "He Who Would Valiant Be," "See That My Bike Is Kept Clean" is equally disrespectful to a familiar blues standard and "Song of Encouragement for the Orme Ascent" is a quirky workout for banjo, harmonica, and jews' harp with a title referencing a Welsh mountain that's a popular spot for suicide jumpers. It all culminates in Half Man Half Biscuit's best-known tune since their original mid-'80s incarnation, the mighty piss-take "Paintball's Coming Home." Based on the exceedingly familiar church camp singalong "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands," each verse picks a new target of bland suburban conformity, with extra potshots taken at Annie Lennox, German shepherds, hot-air ballooning and The Joy of Sex; interpolations of bits of "If I Were a Rich Man" and "If I'da Known You Were Comin'" ("I'd have slashed me wrists...") add to the snark. Some fans of Half Man Half Biscuit's early post-punk sound get off the bus here, but Voyage to the Bottom of the Road is a surprising and entertaining mid-career reinvention conceptually similar to the Mekons' mid-'80s turn to country music. ~ Stewart Mason, All Music Guide
