Album #118: Rogue Traders - Here Come The Drums

Rogue Traders

Here Come The Drums (2005)

Rogue Traders are that dance/electro/rock/synth/whateverthefuckelsewecansqueezein/pop band that were nobodies until they recruited Natalie Bassingthwaite from Neighbours on lead vocals. Suddenly, with a bit of extra public exposure, and armed with an array of radio-friendly dancepop singles, Rogue Traders went BOOM, and it was this album that did it. 

It has been requested a number of times (by the same person, mind you) so it's time to get it out of the way and remind myself just how many of the songs I actually know because television was saturated with them (radio was too but I don't listen to shit radio stations).

The Album

Turns out I know quite a few of them because of the saturation. Perhaps that's also credit to the chief songwriter, James Appleby/Ash/whatever, who certainly knows how to write a hook or two.

At least, he would, if he WASN'T RIPPING MOST OF THE BLOODY HOOKS OFF FROM OTHER, BETTER, MUSICIANS AND SONGS.

Allow me to explain. Voodoo Child would be bad enough because of its banal, shitty lyrics that bleat on while saying sweet fuck all of interest or importance. However, you decided to set those banal, shitty lyrics to the main riff from Elvis Costello's Pump It Up. YOU DESTROYED ELVIS COSTELLO WITH YOUR SHITHOUSE 'TALENT'. FUCK YOU, ROGUE TRADERS. But it gets worse - Watching You takes the lyrical quality of Voodoo Child and wipes its diarrhoea-stained arse with it, somehow providing a set of lyrics that are worse, and again decides to destroy the riff from The Knack's My Sharona. Those are two of the album's singles. Neither particularly original.

But then.

THEN.

There's In Love Again.

I can forgive the lousy synthpop that's trying to be all anthemic and emotional.

I can overlook the fact that the song is as boring as an episode of Love Child and that Bassingthwaite sounds disinterested.

What I can't overlook, or forgive, is that you devote the last two minutes to a nasty thieving of the la-la-la-la part of Tears For Fears' sublime, anthemic tune, Head Over Heels.

Now I must be honest, my reaction (as typed in my listening notes) to this unexpected development was this:

·         WHAT THE FUCK

·         WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

·         YOU FUCKING COCKHEADS

·         THIS IS HEAD OVER HEELS

·         BY TEARS FOR FEARS

·         AN ACTUAL BAND

·         YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR YOU UNTALENTED THIEVING DISEASED PROLAPSED ANUSES

·        SULLYING THE FINE WORK OF ROLAND ORZABAL AND CURT SMITH FOR YOUR FUCKING VOMITOUS SYNTHPOP

·        DIE IN A FIRE

      

      I think that just about says it all, really.

      Elsewhere, it's more of the same. Twelfth-rate lyrics to 'edgy' 'rocky' 'dancepop' (evidenced by the songs Believer and World Go Round), while the utterly deplorable Fashion makes twelfth-rate lyrics seem like fucking Bob Dylan ("Get rich/stay kitsch/give me another hit" perfectly sums up this collection of vacuous, self-obsessed wankbadger lyrics). And as for We're Coming Home, I'm pretty sure if you play the song's backwards samples forwards, it's a recording of somebody saying "CLICHE CLICHE CLICHE" because this song is chock full of them.

      

      Yet would you believe that in this sea of retarded poetry and airheaded cultural fuckheadedness there are actually two songs that aren't complete and utter rhinoceros shit. Way To Go! (one of the many singles) is the only one of the dancepop songs where the bounce and energy of the band (and the vocalist) doesn't sound forced; it genuinely comes off as an enjoyable, club-ready party song, and the guitar riff has a pleasant ballsy chug. There's also Rescue Me, which appears to be the obligatory ballad of the album. Even though it starts with what sounds like an interpretation of whalesong played by an out of tune $20 guitar made by a blind/deaf luthier in Mauritania, and even if it might sound like the bastard child of Roxette and Aqua, it's a welcome change to hear a different aesthetic to fucking cringeworthy 'dancepop'. The beats are gentler, the guitars are subtle and melodic, and it's a great showcase for Bassingthwaite who proves that she has a sweet, pure vocal in her armoury. It's songwriting with nuance and I can't actually believe that it was written by the same people who wrote all the other crap on this record.

The Verdict

No.

My rating: half a star

Standout Tracks

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH no seriously:

Way to Go!

Rescue Me