20 Christmas Songs, Ranked Worst To Best

20 Christmas Songs, Ranked Worst To Best

So, now is the time of year when everyone starts writing their lists of best albums of the year, and inexplicably puts ‘Modern Vampires of the City’ at #1 when it should just be a safe sort of medium to high and when Steven Wilson is far more deserving of the top spot. But I just got a bunch of new CDs for Christmas and I’m more interested in listening to them than going over everything that’s been released in 2013, and besides, over the past two weeks or so, a lot of what I’ve been listening to has had titles like ‘The Greatest Christmas Album In The World Ever’, and since they’re songs that everybody knows and everybody hears without fail in December, I thought I’d say a few things about them.

#20: Santa Baby: The version of this everybody knows is Kylie’s from 2000, although it was originally released in 1953, and it’s pretty much my pet hate when it comes to Christmas songs. The breathy, girly vocals are incredibly annoying and the lyrics are frankly creepy – the idea of flirting with Father Christmas is too weird for me to even think about. The melody is strange and awkward and never really goes anywhere, and all in all, I can’t understand why this ever became a hit.

#19: All I Want For Christmas Is You: Mariah Carey’s 2003 single became massive and many regard it as a definitive Christmas song… when in actual fact, it’s not even about Christmas – it’s just using Christmas as an excuse for her to talk about a guy she’s in love with. I could probably cope with this if it was otherwise a good song, but I find it uninspired, following the same ‘sparse, tender opening followed by danceable, upbeat second verse’ that pop songs have been following since their invention.

#18: Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree: Again, the original version of this isn’t the one everyone knows; the popular version is by Mel Smith and Kim Wilde from 1987, and again, it’s one of those songs that is everywhere and I can’t understand why. It’s just incredibly grating in how it’s constantly upbeat and very repetitive, and it doesn’t exactly seem to be about anything – it just exists. Mostly, the people I know who like it want to seem like they’re into retro music when they’re actually not.

#17: Proper Crimbo: I discovered this 2003 song for the first time this year and instantly hated it. It’s performed by a range of celebrities who were popular at the time but unremembered now, and is clearly meant to be a novelty song. I often tire of novelty songs after the tenth listen; this one I tired of before the first was out. Some people like it because it’s down to earth and captures what Christmas really is like rather than the ideal – I dislike it for the exact same reason; I love the magic of Christmas.

#16: Wonderful Christmastime: Paul McCartney’s contribution to Christmas music came in 1979, which incidentally was the same year that ‘Another Brick in the Wall’ became Christmas Number One (I didn’t feel like I could include that, though.) This is a good song that I’d actually choose to listen to, but its problem is that it’s too safe. Sure, it’s warm and feel-good, and it works excellently as background music in a Christmas party, but it doesn’t do anything particularly exciting.

#15: Merry Christmas Everyone: Released by Shakin’ Stevens in 1985, my complaint about this one is basically exactly the same as the last one. I decided this one slightly edged McCartney out because I’ve always thought he sounded a bit self conscious and unwilling to let go, and Shakin’ Stevens doesn’t have this problem, putting everything he has into the song over a fun swingy rhythm that won’t change your world but will get you tapping your feet.

#14: His Favourite Christmas Story: One that less people will be familiar with, this was released in 2008 by obscure American power pop band Capital Lights. As the title suggests, it tells a story, and the story is excellent – incredibly sad and beautiful and can still make me cry a little if it catches me in the right mood, so I have to listen to this a few times every year. There’s nothing special about the music, though, and if you’re not concentrating on the story it’ll slip right by you.

#13: Baby It’s Cold Outside: Another song that’s older than anybody realises, this 1949 classic has been covered by more people than I care to count, and if I’m honest, the version I downloaded is actually by the Glee Cast. I’m not embarrassed by that, though: Darren Criss and Chris Colfer both have excellent voices which work with each other really well in this playful duet which is more seasonal than Christmassy but is incredibly catchy and always enjoyable to hear or sing along to.

#12: Ring Out, Solstice Bells: Again not technically a Christmas song but certainly a holiday song, this is one of many such songs by Jethro Tull but the only one ever to achieve any fame, and for good reason. The vocals in the verses are a rough, acquired taste and contrast nicely with the gradually building, bombastic chorus creating something that really shouldn’t be uplifting but actually is. It’s very different and creates a great diversion when a Christmas playlist starts to get a bit monotonous.

#11: 2000 Miles: This 1983 single by the Pretenders is a stripped-down acoustic vocal showcase for Chrissie Hynde; and she’s honestly a joy to listen to here, full of emotion and passion – not surprising considering it’s dedicated to ex-band member James Honeymann-Scott following his death. It’s a sad and longing ballad that builds to a stunning climax and it’s perfect if you can’t deal with the constant cheeriness of some of the hugely famous Christmas songs.

#10: Stop The Cavalry: This one makes it into the top ten because its holiday connotations aside, it still manages to be a great New Wave song, which can’t be said for most songs on this list. Jona Lewie (who I know nothing about besides this song) creates a rhythmic and unique song with vague influences from worldbeat and traditional English music, and an anti-war protest message. It’s also very musically clever, including themes used by famous classical composers woven between the modern parts.

#9: Christmas Lights: The most recent song on the list, Coldplay didn’t release their Christmas tune until 2010, but it’s excellent. It’s stopped from being any higher on the list by the fact that it’s pretty similar to every other excellent Coldplay song ever, but nevertheless it’s one of my most played. It manages to be simultaneously happy and sad, acknowledging the magic of Christmas and its power over people despite the singer’s situation, and unsurprisingly the melody is gorgeous and the lyrics honest.

#8: Merry  Xmas Everybody: So there are songs that are great because they’re fun and Christmassy, and there are songs that are great for other reasons, and then there’s Slade’s 1973 single. It’s the most consistently big-selling Christmas song in the UK, possibly because it’s timelessly relatable. The lyrics are clever, funny without trying too hard, and the guitars perfectly suit it: it’s lighthearted but still manages a serious message. Also, I read a statistic that up to 42% of the world might have heard the song. Awesome.

#7: I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday: Roy Wood’s eccentric glam rock outfit Wizzard aren’t the obvious choice for a massive commercial song but they’re definitely weird enough to pull out all the stops for this camped-up hit. Brimming with energy and impossibly full of hooks, it perfectly captures the childhood view of Christmas, which is appropriate since a choir of children actually sing on part of it. For four minutes it takes you back to a simpler time and it’s just impossible to get tired of.

#6: Happy Christmas (War Is Over): This 1971 single was released by John Lennon and Yoko Ono, and is another one which combines the idea of an anti-war song with a Christmas song, and does it just slightly better. It cleverly utilises the conventions of a Christmas song including a children’s choir and the use of instruments such as chimes and sleigh bells, juxtaposing them against the idea that although it’s Christmas there are still a lot of problems in the world. Plus, I love the range of textures and contrast between solo and group vocals.

#5: Peace On Earth/Little Drummer Boy: The third of four duets on this list (ooh, tension) this is one I’ve always liked but only started to love this year. Rulebreaking, genre-bending David Bowie and Christmas song veteran Bing Crosby don’t sound like the most likely partnership but the two together create something that’s unlike any other song, including the best of both of their musical styles. The contrast between the classic ‘Little Drummer Boy’ and the newly written song ‘Peace On Earth’ is effective and often beautiful. The video’s great too.

#4: Do They Know It’s Christmas?: Bob Geldof’s Band Aid single has been released three times, in 1984, 1989 and 2004, and the original’s definitely the best. A lot of people can’t stand the song; it’s very divisive, but clearly I’m in favour. Firstly, I think it was a good idea with honestly good intentions, and the singers do all sound genuine, and secondly I think it’s a very well-written song, giving parts to lots of musicians but still sounding cohesive overall as it gradually builds, with a couple of fake-out climaxes that lead into a united and hopeful ending.

#3: I Believe In Father Christmas: I don’t only like this one because I love Greg Lake’s voice (though I do) or so I can laugh at the irony of huge chain stores playing a song that was written to protest against the commercialisation of Christmas (though I do.) I like it because of the subtle, shimmering riff, because the song has what are possibly Lake’s greatest set of lyrics ever, because of the stripped-down acoustic arrangement that really lets the conviction in his voice show through, and because I genuinely do believe in Father Christmas.

#2: A Spaceman Came Travelling: My second favourite Christmas song is all about the atmosphere. Chris de Burgh’s 1975 song is quietly full of wonder and beauty for something just out of reach, and this ethereal song captures it perfectly, from the quietly whispered verses to the explosive release of the choruses, it’s pretty much a masterpiece of emotional buildup in a song. It’s also an interesting new take on the traditional Christmas story and my enjoyment is in no way influenced by my fascination with space.

#1: A Fairytale Of New York: There are a lot of great Christmas songs, including many that I didn’t even mention, but it’s really not hard for me to pick my all time favourite. The Pogues and Kirtsy MacColl’s collaboration has so far eclipsed all other Christmas songs that I can’t imagine how Christmas ever existed without it. Told over three Christmases, this duet is the story of a relationship, from the exciting honeymoon period at the beginning to the constant fighting phase near the end to the crushing realisation that both parties have given up their dreams for the other person, and it hasn’t even worked out. It’s outstanding in every way, from the lyrics to the melodies that perfectly convey the relevant emotions to the performances, with Shane McGowan’s vocals a particular standout, as well as the evocative fadeout instrumental section at the end. The song is timeless, in that it’s just Christmassy enough to be perfect for the time of year but can still be enjoyed year round, and it appeals to a wide range of musical tastes too. In short, I can’t imagine finding a Christmas song better than this, and I’m not sure I’d want to.

Yes: 90125

90125

Best song: Changes

Worst song: Leave It

Overall grade: 2

Remember how Yes managed to make Drama a success, despite lacking Jon Anderson and Rick Wakeman, by stunningly and effortlessly creating the kind of prog pop that Styx and Kansas could only dream about? Well, three years later they actually have Anderson back, and yet they come nowhere near close to repeating the feat.

Truth is, this was actually the first Yes album I heard, and it nearly put me off listening to the band for life. I’d been advised on the albums by a non-prog fan and so was led to believe that it was some of their best work, yet at the same time I’d heard that they were similar to bands like Pink Floyd and Genesis who I already liked… I listened, and I had no idea how this was similar in any way to those other bands, and I couldn’t get any enjoyment out of it. I shelved the band, and it was a good few months before I was guided towards ‘Close To The Edge’. Later, after being acquainted with the whole of the band’s Seventies catalogue, I returned to this with fresh eyes. I knew I was getting an Eighties pop album rather than a prog album and with that in mind, I thought I might be able to appreciate it. But I couldn’t hear anything that differentiated it from anything else being made at the time. In my opinion, Yes lost their magical songwriting talent somewhere around 1981 and have been trying to get it back ever since, resulting in some near misses like ‘Keys To Ascension’ and ‘Fly From Here’, and some complete flops, like ‘Big Generator’ and this one.

One possible reason for the drop in quality on this album is the departure of Steve Howe; who after over ten years as a permanent fixture of the band was suddenly not invited to join it. That’s right, this was actually an entirely new band, that started off as Chris Squire, Alan White and then-unknown guitarist Trevor Rabin, and just happened to end up including Jon Anderson and pre-Wakeman Yes keyboardist Tony Kaye. As much as I respect Squire as a bassist, I’ve never seen him as the strongest songwriter, and White’s never contributed significantly either, which basically left Anderson alone to carry the group and make them sound vaguely Yes-like, which, after they decided to adopt the name, should have been pretty important.

If I said ‘Owner Of A Lonely Heart’ was my least favourite song here, I’d be being controversial for the sake of it, because there are worse songs. I still can’t stand it, though. I can’t get over the simplicity of it all and the way there aren’t any new layers to uncover with subsequent listens; what you hear is what you get. The band try to add in solos, possibly to appease longtime fans, but they’re uninspired, possibly restricted by the commercial nature of the song.

Its followup ‘Hold On’ is equally uninspired, and it feels like the band don’t realise that it’s possible to be creative and concise, and they have to pick one or the other, because seriously, on paper this song ticks all the boxes of what elements a song should have but it doesn’t do anything more than that and it doesn’t make you feel anything. ‘It Can Happen’ is a slight improvement, made memorable with the addition of the sitar and the less cheesy melody, but still doesn’t exactly break new ground.

‘Changes’ is… well, it’s certainly listenable, even while it never approaches greatness. It brushes aside the shiny, over-polished pop in favour of a rockier sound, and Anderson manages to breathe plenty of emotion into this one: he hasn’t lost any talent, he just doesn’t have as much material to work with here.

Moving into the second side, ‘Cinema’ seems to be an attempt at a prog instrumental, but two minutes doesn’t really give it a chance to develop, and none of the band members are playing their best at this point (Squire hasn’t given us a great bass line this entire album while the others were overloaded with them.) Then ‘Leave It’ was designed as Anderson’s showcase, full of vocal harmonies, but they’re harsh and abrasive to my ears; and I know he’s capable of such beauty. There’s nothing in the background to raise it up, either, and so it becomes my least favourite song on the album because I actually can’t see any merit in it whatsoever: not as a Yes song nor as a pop song.

‘Our Song’ is just so… so eighties, with its keyboards and synths, that seem like something out of a terrible washing powder advert and just manage to overpower the entire song. Then comes ‘City of Love’, and have I mentioned that the lyrics are also terrible here? I’m not saying Yes have ever been well known for great lyrics, but at least they used to be original. Here, they dispense with all originality and go for cringe-inducing: I think the title of this song just about says enough.

‘Hearts’, as a closer, is one of those songs where you spend the whole time waiting for the good bit, as the last thirty seconds are actually pretty cool where the first seven have no focus and nothing special about them. It’s not really enough of a payoff to wait for, in truth. It’s an extended ballad in the grand tradition of ‘And You And I’, but has about as much resemblance to that song as ‘Close To The Edge’ does to ‘Surfin’ Bird’.

Of course, this album is no worse than everything else that was becoming mainstream in 1983; that’s just not my style of music at all, but to an Eighties pop fan this is probably perfectly worthwhile. It’s just not superior to anything else from the time, as it no longer has the unique power of classic Yes albums from the seventies. Perhaps I’m always going to judge it harshly in the shadow of its great predecessors, but I can’t imagine ever listening to this for pleasure.

The Clash: Give 'Em Enough Rope

Give ‘Em Enough Rope

Best song: Julie’s Been Working For The Drug Squad

Worst song: Stay Free

Overall grade: 4

[author’s note: it’s experiment time! My original reviews were 500-600 words but for a while now they’ve been ~1000, and so I thought I’d have a go at writing something more concise again and see how it works. May or may not become a regular thing, and if anyone has a preference for one writing style over the other, I’ll definitely take that on board.]

After such an acclaimed first effort, the Clash were always going to have some trouble here. With their second album, they strike an awkward-teenager sort of balance between the uncontrollable punk energy of the debut and the genre-boundary-ignoring lasting statement that is London Calling. It works, sometimes, and at other times it can get a little dull. The longer song form that’s found on a lot of songs here can sometimes allow for more development of musical ideas and a chance to showcase other instruments, but at other times is unnecessary and repetitive.

As on their first album, I’d say their most successful songs are the more politically-inclined ones, where Strummer really cares about what he’s singing about, and that’s why my favourites are ‘Julie’s Been Working For The Drug Squad’, the lyrically excellent ‘Safe European Home’, and ‘Tommy Gun’ with its outstanding introduction. Another thing I like about ‘Julie’s’ is the piano part, courtesy of guest musician Allen Lanier, that weaves its way through.

In contrast, I’m not a big fan of ‘Stay Free’, a slower and much more pop-oriented song that feels like it could have been written by pretty much any band. ‘Drug Stabbing Time’ is another song which I’m mostly not a big fan of, except for the awesome saxophone solo which punctuates it.

A song I find particularly interesting is ‘English Civil War’, which is a punk rearrangement of a traditional Irish tune. Joe Strummer had learnt the anti-war song as a schoolboy and came up with the idea of modernising it, which works really well and adds some variety to the album.

It’s definitely possible to notice an improvement in technical skill between the last album and this one, and that has a lot to do with new drummer Topper Headon, who was jazz trained and brings a solid and interesting backing to pretty much every song. In addition, Paul Simonon takes on a more prominent role than he had on the debut, playing some good bass lines on songs like the otherwise-unspectacular ‘Last Gang In Town’.

The other song in the mediocre middle section is ‘Guns on the Roof’, a disappointing use of the riff from the Who’s ‘I Can’t Explain’ that serves to remind you that the original was so much better. But The Clash manage a great comeback at the end of the album. The rocky ‘Cheapskates’ is excellently, passionately sung by Strummer, and anthemic ‘All The Young Punks’ makes a great closer to the album, slower than usual but still interesting, and something of a rallying call to a generation.

Overall, this second album features a fair mix of great writing and uninspired writing, and while the balance shifts enough in the direction of good songs to make it well worth owning, there’s nothing here which I’d describe as criminal to miss out on. It’s never offensively bad but it can walk the fine line between a band having fun and a band existing on automatic.

Pink Floyd: A Momentary Lapse of Reason

A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Best song: Sorrow

Worst song: The Dogs of War

Overall grade: 4

[author’s note: finally reached 100 reviews! Much later than I hoped, but I made it.]

I’ve been looking forward to this one for a while. More often than not, I find that people tend to dismiss this album, and I completely understand why. After Roger Waters had left the band, having almost singlehandedly written the past three albums, people must have been justifiably sceptical about David Gilmour’s ability to keep the band going at such a high level. Add to that the ‘80s curse’ that had set in, bestowing mediocrity and commercialism on once-great bands, and by all rights this album has all the makings of something absolutely terrible. But truth is, I find quite a few of the songs here to be excellent.

David Gilmour did not try to be Roger Waters here. When he decided to make a Pink Floyd album instead of a solo album, he writes Gilmour songs with a few Pink Floyd trademarks thrown in. He didn’t go for concept albums and long epics and darkly abstract lyrics, because he knew his strengths didn’t lie in those areas. Instead, he brought in writing partners where it was necessary and wrote relatable classic pop melodies with interesting twists and occasionally the barest hint of experimentalism.

Some people take issue with this album because it’s almost a Gilmour solo album, which is true. Some people take issue because Gilmour wasn’t an original band member, as he replaced Syd Barrett – also true. But as for the idea that it was too different to their previous work? Well, just look at the difference between ‘The Piper at the Gates of Dawn’ and ‘Animals’. Their two best albums in my opinion, but they couldn’t be more different. Change isn’t always bad, it seems.

The very beginning of the album isn’t so great – ‘Signs Of Life’ is actually very enjoyable when you don’t know Pink Floyd very well, but leaves a bitter taste when you realise quite how much of it is recycled from Floyd songs of past. Similarly, ‘The Dogs of War’ re-uses sound effects, including the barking from ‘Dogs’ and the alarm clocks from ‘Time’. Here, Gilmour tries too hard to be aggressive and dissonant. He doesn’t manage to shock or unnerve his fans, just make them grimace as they reach for the ‘Skip’ button.

The best known song from the album is probably ‘Learning to Fly’, which shows Gilmour and company on top melodic form, coming up with all kinds of irritatingly rhythmic hooks and using Gilmour’s recent foray into owning aeroplanes as a metaphor for moving on from the Waters-led band. Some might say that the new band shouldn’t have focused their new songs on this, but I would say that writing about what’s relevant to them will always make a better song. Plus, the songs would have been accused of being about Waters no matter what. Anyway, it’s an arena rock song with a Pink Floyd twist, and the combination shines.

‘One Slip’ follows a similar formula yet manages to be different at the same time. The opening sounds like the beginning to a vintage video game. Phil Manzanera co-writes, bringing a freshness and a hint of 80s Roxy Music to the songwriting, and while lyrics were never one of Gilmour’s strong points, they’re actually pretty good and very honest here, talking about a failed marriage. Lots of percussion and some spacey instrumental sections stop the song from feeling too generic.

Then comes the beautiful and dreamy ballad ‘On The Turning Away’, which in some ways foreshadows Gilmour’s ‘On An Island’ work. His voice is so light that a sudden wind might sweep it away, and it’s a song that shows so much quiet emotion before letting it all flood out in the guitar solo that dominates the second half.

Following these triumphs, ‘Yet Another Movie’ is an unassuming disappointment. It seems like it’s trying to be interesting, maybe even like it should be interesting, but it doesn’t capture my attention anywhere near long enough for its length, the different parts seem to clash with each other somehow, and the solo here is either squealy or boring. Far more exciting is the impossibly short instrumental that it leads right into, ‘Round And Around’, which is minimal, atmospheric and surprisingly intense, and could have led onto something really awesome.

Another instrumental success is ‘Terminal Frost’. Anything that comes between the two dated, barely musical parts of ‘A New Machine’ is sure to be a success in comparison, but ‘Frost’ particularly so. Here, Pink Floyd experiment with jazzy undertones and the wide range of guest musicians on the song make the musicianship of a much higher quality than on the band’s earlier output. Its structure is excellent, often hinting at becoming something huge and fading back down again before really exploding towards the end.

And the true masterpiece is left for last. I was lucky enough to see the Australian Pink Floyd Show play ‘Sorrow’ live on their most recent tour, and whether live or in the studio, it absolutely stands up to the band’s 70s output. It’s dark, heavy and melodic all at the same time and always manages to make a big impression on me. Some great guitar and bass work (Tony Levin contributes) and incredible, intense momentum make this into a thrilling epic that by itself almost elevates the album to a 5-level. I’ve heard people call it filler, but I can’t see how anyone could not enjoy its wonderful progression and diversity, along with the excellent, involved performances from everyone, creating a memorable finish.

Albums like Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall are justifiably massive because they have the ability to blow peoples’ minds and even change their lives. A Momentary Lapse of Reason is never going to do that. But it paved the way for the band’s last great album, seven years later, as well as containing a fair few songs that, even though they may not fulfil Waters’ criteria, definitely fit mine.

[REQUEST] Carter: 1992 The Love Album

1992 The Love Album

Best song: England

Worst song: 1993

Overall grade: 4

Well, this is something I never thought I’d review. For a long time, everything I’d heard about Carter, including the fact that they called themselves ‘The Unstoppable Sex Machine’ led me to believe that they were immature, full of themselves and not particularly serious. I still partly think that, but at the same time I think they do have a fair amount of talent, often writing inspired lyrics that use humour to give important messages, and occasionally writing decent melodies.

For anyone who’s not aware, Carter USM were a pair of indie musicians known only as Jim Bob and Fruitbat who put out a handful of albums throughout the 90s, and still occasionally tour today. This album was their most successful, containing a Top 10 single and making it to number 1 in the UK charts, but today they’re largely unheard of, and there’s a fair chance I wouldn’t have heard of them if I didn’t know people who were massive fans.

This album opens with an instrumental; an interesting and surprising decision considering Carter’s strengths really do lie in their lyrics. ‘1993’ is unnecessarily bombastic and seems very contrived and artificial, and as an opener it fails to excite me about the album to come. However, in the eight songs that follow, Jim Bob and Fruitbat tackle an interesting range of subject matter that’s either not often covered in songs, or just looked at in a different way

I’m not entirely sure who started the idea of putting the big hit single as track three on an album, or when. I can’t think of many pre-90s examples. Anyway, it applies here with ‘The Only Living Boy in New Cross’, a play on the similarly-titled Paul Simon song. It builds and expands as all good anthems should, moving from the tale of one particular one night stand to reciting an extensive list of people who have died from AIDS.  It’s memorable, effective and hard-hitting right down to the angry finality of ‘Hello, good evening, welcome – and goodbye.’

It’s easily the album’s second best song, beaten out only by the lyrical excellence that is ‘England’. A traditional English folk melody is juxtaposed with a tale that paints a far more bleak view of our country, containing constant references to things which, depressingly enough, seem to represent the English, and an uncountable number of excellent puns, from ‘I was born under a wandering star in the second council house of Virgo’ to ‘My phone number is triple-X directory’. Without paying attention to the lyrics it sounds unobtrusive and a minor side note to the album, especially given its length, but to pass over it would be a huge mistake.

Between these two greats is ‘Suppose You Gave A Funeral and Nobody Came’, a comment on the superficiality of popularity (I can’t say that fast either) that’s set to dance music; which could be a ridiculous combination but actually works, the contrast of subject matter and musical style exactly mirroring the contrast of the popular girl with no real friends. The melody at the end is probably the catchiest moment of the album, too. It doesn’t let itself be overshadowed by the two songs around it, but holds its own nicely, although as the first of two funeral songs, it makes me wonder if this album should be renamed ‘1992 The Death Album’.

The second one, ‘Look Mum, No Hands!’ is the downbeat tale of a funeral of a young boy, but it’s a bit heavyhanded and tries too hard to make its point, and consequently isn’t as successful as those that seem to convey their message effortlessly. It’s not a complete failure – there are a couple of very darkly humourous lines – but it’s not a classic. Similarly, the second half of ‘Is Wrestling Fixed’ tries too hard to be funny, with an endless list of not particularly imaginative questions to which the answer is blatantly ‘yes’, and then the final line, ‘Is wrestling fixed?’ It doesn’t take a genius to work out the intended meaning of that. The first half is excellent, though, far cleverer and makes the song well worth the listen.

Side two doesn’t have any classics, although it does begin with a Spinal Tap quote. ‘Do Re Me So Far So Good’ is the obligatory anti-music-industry song that’s been done a thousand times. It’s enjoyable and well-written enough but placed after three outstanding tracks, will always seem like the slightly less original younger cousin.

An issue I have with a lot of these songs, especially ‘While You Were Out’, lies in the vocals; which are incredibly intense and over-the-top the majority of the time, something which can get incredibly grating. It’s not a bad song but it definitely turns into overload partway through. Jim Bob clearly has the ability to put a lot of emotion and power into his voice, but it would be much more effective if this were saved for the occasional particularly important line, with the others treated more subtly.

‘Skywest And Crooked’ is where the lyrics start to get a bit more abstract, and I like it for the fact that it’s positive but not overwhelmingly so, still remaining grounded, especially with the dark and thought provoking Ian Dury quote at the end. But I can’t say the same for the cover ‘The Impossible Dream’, which is difficult to believe coming from the same guy who’s just sung all these sardonic lyrics, and therefore I don’t really see it as part of the album. It would have been more effective to end with the spoken words of ‘I do not think they were asking why they were dying, but why they had ever lived.’

So, overall, I know that Carter have a very dedicated following and to a certain point, I can see the appeal: behind some uninteresting rhythms and unnecessary swearing they’re intelligent and cynical with a lot of important things to say and no fear of saying them. So they are worthwhile listening, but with too many weaknesses to ever become either essential or frequent listening. For days when you feel particularly disillusioned with society only.