It's pretty obvious that Britt Daniel got an extra dollop of charisma when they were buttering the cool cunt sandwiches. The man may as well be Arthur Fonzarelli jumping a tank of sharks on a motorcycle.
I once saw him stare down and pick up the only hot chick ever to have visited Canberra, mid performance. She was already tonsils deep on his utensil before he'd even left the stage. And ever since Girls Can Tell, this extreme level of being fucking awesome has translated through to his band Spoon's albums.
That's no different for their latest effort, Transference. The lead single Written In Reverse was released just before Christmas and had all the band's fans frothing on what the new album would have in stall for them in the new year - myself included.
So when I finally got my hands on a copy a few days ago, I imported it to my trusty Pod, fingered repeat, and let her go. And in the days since, where I've literally listened to nothing but Spoon, I have to admit... it's disappointingly predictable.
Like I said, the cool is still there. As is the sparse, driving rhythms; thumping keys; chaotically exploding guitar licks; and gravel torn vocals that posses more soul than most white boys can dream of - all of which combine into that sound that is so identifiably Spoon.
But the hooks, those incredible pop hooks that shook you like an infant on Way We Get By, I Summon You and Don't Make Me A Target, just aren't there.
That doesn't mean there aren't some kick ass spinners. Written In Reverse makes you wanna stomp a hole in the dance floor with your dirty Texan heels. The Mystery Zone has one of those unidentifiable elements that makes you love it more and more every time you hear it. And Got Nuffin, towards the end of the LP, pounds like a Catholic school girl when her parents are out.
But there are no surprises, no twists or turns. I remember catching I Turn My Camera On for the first time and thinking "What a shit song." But as I heard it over and over again, it clawed and wrenched its way through me until I grasped the unbelievable appeal of that disco hook - the same hook that pervades so many amazing Spoon songs, no matter how much they break it down, or swell it up.
But on Transference, Britt, despite his ability to fix jukeboxes with a well timed punch, seems to have bent the Spoon too far.