The Tailors - Come Dig Me Up (Album)

As the years glide by, trends come and go in music. As the artform which is most easily misused as a fashion statement only to be quietly discarded when the tide of public opinion changes, this is of course inevitable. Increasingly (and equally inevitably) bands will eschew the choppy seas of ‘the scene’ in favour of that gently drifting stream which ultimately doesn’t really lead anywhere but which is blissfully unaffected by trendy crosswinds. This waterway is often navigated by the sort of bands who make simple, unassuming pop music.

There are the likes of Left With Pictures, who are devastatingly adept with a simple melody. Then there are the sort of interchangeable and pointless scumbags who smash the bland-o-meter and thus invariably end up on Radio One six times a day. And then you have the likes of The Tailors who sit right in the middle of middle-of-the-road. This is a term which is often used as an insult, but in this context an insult is not what I mean. Equally though, on approaching Come Dig Me Up, their second album, it is important to go in with your eyes open. What you will get will be a pleasant and often pretty half an hour of music, but it is unlikely that it will ever be a particularly rewarding experience.

The album takes its cue from American alt-Country records, as it bobs along gently on arrangements lead by delicately strummed acoustic chords and piano. Singer Adam Killip’s care-worn voice sits perfectly with its backing, but at the risk of promoting an unhealthy lifestyle, I can’t help but think that it would benefit from a slug of whisky and a few fags to make it sound a bit more lived in, and give things that all-important bit of edge. ‘Impossible Wonder’, for example, is a well-constructed ballad which, like the rest of the album, can’t be faulted for competency, but would be all the better for being a little more scuffed up.

Notwithstanding the faults of Come Dig Me Up, it isn’t without its high-points. The slightly insipid opening track ‘Pictures of Her’ is washed away by ‘Bow Road’ and it’s jaunty, carefree refrain. There is also penultimate track ‘Crocodiles’ which appears to tell the tale of being disembowelled by the titular animals. The song is carried by a delicate melody which is at odds with the gruesome (although admittedly probably metaphorical) imagery.

‘Crocodiles’ segues into ‘Flying Blues’ which is an oddly jarring way to end the album. The band bare their teeth for the first time with crashing drums and power chords, which would be a welcome slice of diversity but for the fact that it all comes across very disjointed. The little quiet bits in the middle before the guitars kick in sound like they belong in a different song. It’s a strange way to finish off the record, and doesn’t really reflect what The Tailors are as a band. If you hadn’t been paying attention for the 28 or so minutes that precede it (sadly something which is not entirely impossible to imagine), and just dipped in at the end, I suspect you’d be left feeling pretty disoriented.

Ultimately, The Tailors are quite obviously good musicians. They clearly know how to write what most people would term a good song. They just need to consider the fact that this alone will not make them a good band. There’s potential here, but they need to shake off some of their niceness if they want to be truly memorable.