Lovejoy are slowly, yet steadily building on a fine history, and seemingly getting better at every juncture. ‘Everybody Hates...’, their third album rides on the coat tails of inclusions on numerous indie compilations, last years single on Unpopular Records, and live dates in England, Spain and Sweden – indie heartlands if ever there were any.

Kicking off with ‘Radio Lovejoy’, a thirty second search through the airwaves, scanning white noise and dirty AM receptions for something a little more pure, a little more heartfelt, something more lustrous and luxurious, harmonious and melodious, and boy do you find it. As soon as this album gets a hold you are swamped with saccharine, soothing songs laced with a tinge of desperation and defiance and a substantial array of superbly written semi-pop classics.

From ‘Petrol Stars’ with it’s hints of electronica overlain by simple acoustic guitar lines folds into ‘America’ with it’s more threatening rhythm section and darker tones Lovejoy seem to have the spectrum covered already. The whole sound is subtle and understated whilst maintaining a steady steely gaze and an unrelenting hold. It’s not a record to dip in and out of, it’s an album to listen through to as a whole. It’s a record that tells a story from start to finish.

Packed full of chime and melody ‘Everybody Hates...’ cannot fail to impress, openly poppy tracks mix with the slightly rockier moments of the instrumental ‘Sandcastles’ and the forceful ‘Sid Vicious’ the whole melting pot thing works so well. That’s not to say that the set is too eclectic or the themes too ephemeral, it all holds together perfectly, the natural glue being a combination of elegant musical direction and an irresistible overall good time feeling to the record, regardless of it’s lyrical content.

Easing back down towards the finale ‘Nicotine and Love’ spells out the regrets of a wasted past, lost days and a lost love. It’s a gently menacing acoustic strum that remains one of a stunning records hidden highlights. ‘Because You’re Worth It’ and ‘This Could be an Ending’ close the album in fine style. The former, an electronics dominated ruck with subverse acoustic guitar lines, the latter, a sun kissed, sea breeze blessed slice of almost melancholia. It’s like that feeling of being alone in a crowd, the taste of something special and the belief that one day, maybe one day, things will be perfect. This record is strung together with an irrepressible feel of hopeful optimism, and that in my book is no bad thing at all.

All that and a sparkling cover of The Windmills ‘Drug Autumn’, what more could you ask for?

You can take your little England, and shove it. This is Lovejoy, and not a mention of rogue-ish antiques dealers.

Words by Johnny Mac
 

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