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A pretentious meandering
on 13 October 2013
Dear oh dear. 'Fraid to say I cannot agree with any of these 5 star reviews. I've tried to like BBT, I really have. But they are a BBB (Big Big Bore) to me. I'll concede they can play - but that's about it. Musically they are devoid of any inspiration outside of their lame channeling of Gabriel era Genesis, but without any of the memorable melodies of yore. Much instrumental noodling but little else. In fact, I find it impossible to commit any of their meandering compositions to memory, so insipid are their attempts at writing a good tune. Predictable chordings rapidly become irritating, rendering the tracks effectively indistinguishable from one other. And lyrically - I'm not sure what to say. The constant repetition of banal lines with ever increasing accompaniment, as if the process of doing this could somehow magically transform dross into something profound and meaningful. A typical example (from the tweely entitled Winchester from St Giles Hill):
"A river flowing from the chalk hills
through the water meadows and the open fields.
Walls were made and streets were laid down,
halls and houses, schools and churches"
Yikes! To commit this atrocity to paper is bad enough, but then to put it to melody (or what passes in the BBT world as melody) just boggles the mind!! If their musical modus operandi is to try and force a tune around lyrics such as these, no wonder they're mired in the land of anal retention.
Just to make sure I wasn't being too hard on the guys, I picked another track at random (British Racing Green from Far Skies, Deep Time). No luck. Here's an unfortunate and feeble attempt at pathos, marred by yet another forgettable tune and kindergarten lyrics. To wit:
"British racing green and red,
She looked at me.
We tore each others hearts out.
We ripped each other apart.
We tore each others hopes up,
We just gave up.
Frankly, so have I !!
Now where's my Selling England By The Pound?