Ash - A Retrospective

We all have our seminal bands, those who take a major part in forming our tastes in our younger days, and with whom we form such strong bonds that we will follow them unconditionally, football style, whatever kind of form they are in. For me, Ash are one of those bands. Now that they have eschewed the album format altogether for their much discussed A-Z singles project (The first thirteen of which have recently been compiled and released as a single disc), now would seem as good a time as any to run a critical eye over their recorded output and see just why they are such an important band to so many.

When debut mini-album Trailer appeared in 1994, Tim and Mark were still only 17. Much was made of the band’s age, and stories of them needing their headmaster’s permission to go on tour abounded, but the crux of it is that Trailer remains a vital piece in the Ash jigsaw. It bore the clear hallmarks of a young band trying to find their own sound, but even at this embryonic stage it was distinctly recognisable as Ash. The spikier punk songs like ‘Intense Thing’ are the earliest examples of the strength of Tim’s often under-rated guitar work, even if his voice was a little too sweet to convincingly carry off the shouting. Trailer’s best moments, however, were the songs which aligned most closely with the buoyant pop Ash would eventually become feted for. ‘Jack Names the Planets’, ‘Petrol’, and ‘Uncle Pat’ in particular can still stand toe to toe with much of the band’s back catalogue.

The band’s first album proper, 1977, saw them round off some (though thankfully not all) of their rougher edges into the power-pop which most casual observers would associate with them. It was (possibly inadvertently) timed to perfection in the summer of 1996 with ‘Goldfinger’ and ‘Oh Yeah’ in particular rightly being remembered as stone-cold pop classics, perfect distillations of the band’s youthful energy and skill with a memorable hook. It also provided the first indications that Tim was capable of writing more than just a catchy pop song, with ‘Gone the Dream’ and ‘Lost in You’ glistening with a yearning, wide-eyed sense of teenage angst. Unlike many albums from the same era, the record has aged well, partly thanks to the ageless quality of the songs, and partly because of Owen Morris’ meaty production.

Perhaps inevitably after seeing such success at such a young age, after 1977, the band went off the rails a little. Having recruited Charlotte Hatherley to beef up their sound, they produced Nu-Clear Sounds, a massive departure in tone from 1977 which left Joe Public completely baffled. Looking back, its poor critical and commercial reception was an unfair reflection of the quality of the record. The band’s collective psyche may have been completely frazzled, as displayed quite candidly on ‘Low Ebb’ and ‘Burn Out’, but there were moments of brilliant creativity lurking amid the gloom. ‘Projects’ and ‘Death Trip 21’ in particular were gloriously dense blasts of Sonic Youth-esque energy. While the album had little in common with the sugar rush of the previous record, under its blistered surface, the likes of ‘Wild Surf’ and ‘Jesus Says’ still displayed some of the old propensity for a catchy chorus.

After Nu-Clear Sounds, something had to give, and it was very nearly the band’s existence. Burnt out and almost bankrupt, they returned to Northern Ireland to lick their wounds and recorded Free All Angels, an album which would prove to be the most glorious of salvations. The record-buying public latched onto Ash again with the killer one-two of singles which preceded the album, ‘Shining Light’ and ‘Burn Baby Burn’ both gatecrashing the top end of the charts. As strong as it was, Free All Angels didn’t really tell the full story of a time which saw the band hit the richest creative seam of their career. The likes of ‘Walking Barefoot’, ‘Cherry Bomb’ and ‘Pacific Palisades’ were stunning pop songs, while ‘Submission’ and ‘Shark’ were cuddlier versions of the tales of excess explored on Nu-Clear Sounds. However, the five singles the album yielded where backed by a slew of songs which were at least as strong as what eventually made the cut. The likes of ‘Stay in Love Forever’, ‘So the Story Goes’, ‘Nocturne’ and ‘The Sweetness of Death by the Obsidian Knife’ meant Free All Angels could quite conceivably have been a fantastic double album.

In 2004, for the second time in their career, Ash followed up a massively successful album with something with a harder edge. Meltdown saw them ditch the strings and pop hooks which were dotted around Free All Angels in favour of straight-up ballsy rock. The album was a straightforward proposition; big choruses and simple dumb fun. Aside from the power ballad ‘Starcrossed’, which never quite sat right on the album, there was little deviation from the formula. As a consequence, the album was only moderately successful, but like Nu-Clear Sounds it was a better album than its reception suggested. The huge driving riff of ‘Orpheus’ and the Queens of the Stone Age-aping ‘Clones’, were wonderful blasts of visceral power. The glorious, surging ‘Out of the Blue’ and devastatingly concise ‘Renegade Cavalcade’ were similarly effective. Ultimately, Meltdown was an arse-kicking summer rock album; no more, no less.

By the time the band reached Twilight of the Innocents in 2007, there was a sense that the momentum was fading a little, which probably wasn’t helped by the departure of Charlotte, who had been a huge part of the band’s success for almost ten years. The album proved to be a bit of a mixed bag. It was certainly not without its highlights, with ‘I Started a Fire’ oozing the typical Ash energy, and ‘Polaris’ and ‘Twilight of the Innocents’ providing proof that Wheeler’s nous with pathos was as strong as it was in his teenage years, with the latter being imbued with an impressive new sense of grandeur. That said, there wasn’t as much of that intangible spark which ignites the best Ash records. It’s not that Twilight of the Innocents was a bad album; it just ended up being the weakest of an extremely strong bunch, and suffering by comparison.

As we have seen, it turned out to be the last Ash long player as they returned to the singles format which has always been kind to them. The songs released so far from the A-Z collection have provided a few glints of their old lustre, suggesting that being freed from the traditional album cycle of albums has reinvigorated the band somewhat. Still only in their early thirties, there is clearly plenty of life left in Ash yet, whether they return to albums or stick to singles. Whatever happens, there are plenty more than me who owe a serious debt of gratitude to Ash for the innumerable moments of sheer joy they have provided for so many years.

Ash - A-Z Volume 1 (Album)

When a band has been together as long as Ash have, keeping it fresh must presumably become increasingly difficult. After eighteen years, five long-players, a mini-album, a live recording, and a singles collection, they have decided that now is the time for them to shake things up. Having already returned to their original three-man line-up, and apparently sickened by the lack of support their last record Twilight of the Innocents received, the band have decided to dispense entirely with the traditional cycle of albums. In a move which would probably be very pleasing to the geeky teenagers who first formed the band in Downpatrick, they have resolved to release only singles from now on.

That would seem a bold enough step in itself, but they haven’t quite stopped there. Last year they commenced with the A-Z Singles project which would see them releasing a single every fortnight for twelve months. We now find ourselves at the halfway stage of the venture, and singles A-M have been compiled on A-Z Volume 1. Whether or not this counts as reneging on their ‘no more albums’ pact is beside the point, and for more pedantic souls than me to debate. What is far more important is that these singles have inspired in Ash the best form since the career rescuing effort that was Free All Angels. For the first time in a good few years, the band seem to be having fun, an element which has always been fundamental to their best work. While Twilight of the Innocents was not without its highlights, even the staunchest of Ash lovers would struggle to argue that it didn’t sound just a little tired.

While they haven’t quite reinvented the wheel with these songs, they have certainly pumped up its tyres and given it some shiny new hubcaps. The freedom presented by the project would appear to have given Ash licence to be a little more experimental than they might attempt on a conventional album. This point is illustrated immediately with the playful electro pulse of Single A ‘True Love 1980’, a song which also contains the first of many classic Tim Wheeler pop choruses present on the disc (See also ‘Joy Kicks Darkness’, ‘Arcadia’ and ‘Neon’.)

Save for the occasional musical flourish here and there, these songs are still unmistakably and undeniably Ash. The same ingredients which made 1977 so thrilling to a whole generation of indie kids all those years ago can be found in the best songs on this collection; the gigantic melodies, the unbridled sense of youthfulness, Tim Wheeler’s boyishly just-about-in-tune vocals and the headrush of the power chord-led choruses. For those who have followed Ash’s journey from the start, the effect this produces is more than just nostalgia; it is a sense of rejuvenation.

While Ash have always been doyens of power-pop, none of their recordings have been complete without the odd flip into lovelorn teen mode. This has historically acted as a sobering antidote to the dizzying effect of the band at full pelt. A-Z Volume 1, true to form, is home to a couple of particularly lovely moments in the shape of the wide-eyed and expansive ‘Tracers’, and ‘Pripyat’, a longing paean to the titular nuclear city. Tim’s voice has always been suited to songs of yearning, and this is something which has not dimmed as the years have gone by.

So great are the high points of the collection that it’s a shame that it starts to run out of steam slightly towards the end. From ‘Space Shot’ onwards, things begin to drift along a little aimlessly until Single M ‘War With Me’ revives things at the death with a grand piano motif and yet another mega chorus. The flaws of the collection don’t spoil it in any way though, and they probably won’t even come as a surprise to most because Ash have always lived had a laudable lack of fear of screwing up. Their imperfections have always been a part of what makes them so endearing, and may even be why they have endured when most of their contemporaries gave up the ghost years ago. Either way, while this compilation brazenly embraces their past, it also shows their future could be far more compelling than might reasonably expected from a band nearing the end of their second decade.

7/10

January Singles Round-Up

It's now traditional that the music world agrees a ceasefire in December, allowing X-Factor hangers-on free reign to ride roughshod over the charts. A few (usually futile) infiltration attempts aside, most realise it's just easier that way. Let Cowell have his fun, because January sees things return to something resembling normality in terms of singles releases.

Not that considerations of the calendar bother Ash any more, now that they are taking the tag 'singles band' to worryingly literal extremes. Space Shot is the eighth in their 26 single series. It has their typical monster chorus and languid delivery, but really it's a shadow of the band that thrilled me years ago.

Far more endearing is Ben Dalby's impressively crafted Doctor Can. It's an absorbing piece of bass-led songsmithery which is just a little bit 80s although mercifully not in that horribly contrived La Roux way. Arno Cost flies in the face of Dalby's conciseness with his remix of Cicada's One Beat Away. Nicely textured electro it may be, but there's no need whatsoever for it to exceed seven minutes.

A one-two of local singles provides a doubly pleasant surprise. Hartlepool band Runwells’ As You Begin is the purest, simplest type of guitar pop. It‘s easygoing, catchy, and strangely moreish. Revelation number two comes from Longbenton's Nev Clay whose song Tony Robinson's Tears is a breezy, charming exercise in modern folk which recounts the tale of a particularly absorbing episode of Time Team. Nev has the sort of authenticity Paolo Nutini would slay his granny for. I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, but Nutini's 10/10 is a derisory lump of ironically-titled shite which sees him for some inexplicable reason pretending to be Jamaican. Hadouken are equally impossible to take seriously as their faux-everything, Sub-Skins drivel-fest Turn the Lights Out hammers another nail in their coffin. Winter Kiss by Young Guns is no better, as a bunch of rock kids from High Wycombe attempt to disguise their place of birth with generic phony American rawk mewling.

The antithesis to this posey horror comes in the form of Mixtapes and Cellmates' Soon and Victorian English Gentlemen's Club's Bored in Belgium. The former represents that gorgeously melodic and vaguely shoegazey pop the Swedes always do excellently. The latter is a quirky, playful line in yelping indie-pop. Both are excellent, and head and shoulders above much of the rest of January's offerings.