There are some things in life that you just don’t have any control over, things that are just going to happen no matter what you think, what you say or what you do, and despite this, these are usually the things that we are least prepared for. Like a broken heart, or a first drunken kiss in the rain, like a sudden death or the first spark of romance across a midnight dance floor in a provincial nightclub, like a motorway pile up or an unexpected declaration of love; we never expect these things, but these are the moments when we feel most alive, when the preparation and planning is taken away from us, when our destiny is completely out of our hands. These are the moments when we are skating on ice, spinning dizzily out of control, either in exhilaration or desperation, we can be coasting the waves of delight or plunged in the depths of despair and there is nothing we can do about it, we just have to deal with it. That is what makes life worth living, that is what makes it all real, the moments, they don’t come often, but when they do you never forget them.

Occasionally a book, or a film, or a record comes along that makes you sit up and take notice. It’s usually because it’s so different from everything else that is happening around it, more often than not however this individuality is forced, simply to grab the casual onlooker and attract attention. It does just that, but only for a short period of time, as soon as the dust settles the media is hot on the heels of something else new and exciting. On the odd occasion though that the differential is entirely natural the phenomenon will return time after time and enjoy abject longevity, and rightly so. Like when Elvis walked into Sun Studio, or when Johnny Marr went around to Kings Road in Stretford and pressed his face up against the window to see if Steven wanted to write some songs, like when Jack Kerouac sat down in an all night café in California, pulled out a notebook and started to write, all these events were lined with originality, sincerity and belief, and because of that they stood the test of time.

So picture the scene, about six months ago, I drag myself out of bed and down the stairs, the postman has delivered a brown envelope that is still damp from the typically inclement downpour that had initially awoken me from my reverie. I know what it contains, two days previously I had emailed Stuart Murray and asked if I could review his bands gig in Manchester that Friday, he was delighted, apparently Friends of the Heroes was on their list of people to get to review their forthcoming album, and indeed he was going to send me a copy, and this was it. I poured coffee and buttered toast, and slid the glimmering yet thus far innocuous twelve centimetres of plastic into the cd player, sat down, pressed play, and was immediately dumbstruck. What followed was initially too much to take in, it was like living your life in forty minutes, it was all there, the highs and the lows, the loves and the heartbreaks, the arrivals and departures, the friends that you lost touch with and the people you loathed still hanging around. It said it all to me, it was almost like reading my life story except for two things, someone else was telling it, and another person had crafted a killer sound track for it. Magnificent, utterly, utterly magnificent, I really had stumbled across something very special.

I resisted the urge to skip the cd backwards and listen to tracks over and over again as I was thrilled to hear what happened next, and next again. The coffee went cold and the toast lay discarded as the kitchen sink dramas unfolded amidst a symphony of bittersweet guitar lines, alternating perfectly between moments of fragility and power, of sensitivity and passion. Tracks would explode as if from nowhere to emphasise the emotions running through the songs before retreating to acknowledge the delicate subject matter. Never had I heard music so closely track the human emotions, this was vital, energetic and decisive, in short it was perfect and after forty minutes, I hit play once again, and braced myself against the oncoming tide.

Don’t Disappoint Me Now opens with Pavey Ark a real hair standing on end surging wail of desperate overdriven guitars which expand, collide and implode like the final moments of a dying star, from this intensity emerges a lusciously melancholy bass line the likes of which were last seen when Peter Hook played Ceremony and a simple one string guitar solo that pulls on your heart strings, smiles and walks away. The story one of a teenage dream of isolation and tranquillity found on a Cumbrian fell which is ruined by parental desperation and mountain rescue interruption. Nobody understands a teenager like a teenager does, and matching those swinging and swaying teenage hormones the music grows and fades with layer upon layer of chiming, chorus and reverb laden guitars, it’s an irresistible opener, and sets the tone perfectly.

Recent single Escape Routine follows swiftly on, how readily I can identify with the sentiments, lost in a relationship that both parties know is going nowhere, but both are reluctant to do anything about.

...Could you kindly take the pins out of the effigy that you have of me, I can’t help but feel uneasy, although it looks nothing like me...

Lyrically it is patently northern, references to Morrissey, Cocker and Gedge are both obvious and lazy, but then again hard to avoid, moreso however these three minute slices of life epitomise the innate ordinariness of Decoration, they reflect the real lives of real people in the same way that Shelagh Delaney and Alan Sillitoe did, they encapsulate the despairs and delights of everyday life, captured in grainy black and white. Unlike most of the records on the radio these days these songs could actually be about you.

With a sharp intake of breath Every Dog Has It’s Day springs to life, and it’s a life where excitement is tempered with disappointment as a prospective beaus hand written note becomes illegible as “...the ink it ran like wine...” to leave “...your forwarding address, just illegible at best...”. To say the song builds to a thrilling crescendo would be an understatement, but a man not moved as this song climaxes is surely with a heart of stone and a soul to match.

So three songs in, and we’re at the point where most albums slip into ‘filler’ -  the songs that aren’t really all that worthwhile but are needed to fill the requisite minutes, however, that is certainly not the case here. Fly North is a swirling romp describing the lust and loss and the memories of school day exchanges, the melodies are heart wrenchingly delivered as our hero “...just stands there, watching birds fly south...” no doubt wishing he was up there with them winging his way to an exotic country far away. Again the guitars pulse and sway over a narration in which the writer tries to reconcile his feelings, and detail that moment of the last ten seconds before midnight on New Years eve, again, it’s those moments, those moments that kill us or cure us, and this album is full of them.

Joy Adamson and Job in London are the two foundations upon which this record is built, and both are equally stunning. When the guitar ignites the blue touch paper and bursts into life in the middle eight of Joy Adamson it’s simply magical, it sweeps and swoops, it soars and glides, effortlessly, but with an intensity that blinds. Immediately after comes Job in London with luxurious arpeggios gliding in from somewhere in the ether before a regimented drum pattern and driving bass drag the story of another doomed youth from the singer. It shimmys like a modern day lullaby for the lost generation, and again power chords it’s way through a chorus to wake the dead, and a shatter of glass to unnerve the elderly.

Peel session favourite Pine and debut single I Tried It, I Liked It, I Loved It guide the listener to the second act of the album. Again, more chime, more melody, and more delight than a boy can handle. The former, a love story with a macabre twist, the latter a machine gun blast of indie pop intensity that has become a dance floor staple in the indie discos of central Europe, and rightly so. From it’s opening blast through to the pseudo comic tragedy Eeurgh at the end of the chorus, taking in it’s euphoric candour and hopeful demeanour it has it all, you should try it, you might like it, you might even love it, nothing ventured, nothing stained after all.

“Taking it down a little” is how they would describe Vaseline on the Lens, a simple song that was written, recorded and won its place on the album within twenty four hours, again it tells of one of those moments in life where you make a decision that changes your direction completely. The song builds throughout before fading and dying and seeping into the woodwork where you know it will remain until you yourself make one of these decision and then it’ll all come flooding back.

Intercom is a dizzying rollercoaster of a song that has been available for free download on the SL Records website for quite some time, and to be honest it doesn’t lose it’s thrill or its intensity with time at all.

As the aphorism goes, all good things must come to an end, and with Concrete so does this record. More of the same, more of what over the last thirty five minutes you have become familiar with. Homely lyrics, rugged guitar tracks, rudimentary soloing, heart warming bass lines and life affirming drum tracks, it’s all there, and at no point do Decoration take their foot off the accelerator. They know where they are going, they have a map and a gun and duty is a creed, it might be Preston in the winter, it might be Cologne in the spring, who knows? Well, they know and they want to take you along for the ride.

There isn’t much around these days that talks to me about the things that I love and the things that I loathe, it’s seldom that I hear anything that reflects my life, my thoughts, my hopes and my dreams. Nothing really catches those moments, those moments when you feel most alive, when you are completely and utterly in awe of love or totally devastated by it. That’s right, the moments, those moments that life is really about; if you have had one of these moments you’ll know exactly what I am talking about, and you might want to check out a record that defines them, that shows you that you are not on your own anymore, because Decoration are here, and they want to talk to you.  

Johnny Mac

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