This isn’t the first time Art Brut have revisited their past. In 2013, they released a “best of” collection, Top of the Pops, named after both the band’s 2004 song and the show on which they’d never have the chance to perform. For the casual Art Brut fan, there isn’t much added value on these new releases. The first few songs on both the LP and CD sets mirror the Top of the Pops tracklist almost exactly, opening with “Formed a Band,” “My Little Brother,” and “Emily Kane.” Instead, this collection is both an introduction for potential new fans who were still in primary school during the band’s peak, and on the other end, an overdue celebration for Art Brut obsessives, who will doubtlessly appreciate the frenetic live recordings included here. At the time of its release, Argos used Top of the Pops to prematurely anoint Art Brut a “CLASSIC ROCK BAND” (they had been on the front cover of German Rolling Stone, after all), and projected that their “Next phase is HERITAGE ROCK BAND. See you in 10 years for a Second Volume.” It took a little longer, but Art Brut have returned to cement their status: being a Heritage Rock Band usually requires leaving some sort of lasting physical legacy.
For Argos’ teeth-gnashing musical protagonist, discovering rock’n’roll was the first step in a futile quest—electric guitars evoked a world of declining relevance and unfulfilled potential. But it was hard to tell how much of the band was an act. Was their bassist’s name really Freddy Feedback? What about first guitarist Chris Chinchilla? How serious was Argos when he sang “popular culture no longer applies to me,” and how much was a deflection from his own insecurities as a songwriter? These box sets suggest that both can be true: Art Brut sound at the peak of their powers performing live, darting frantically across the fretboard and drumkit at the French festival Eurockéennes in 2006. At that show’s rendition of “Bad Weekend,” Argos justified his anger as he begged his audience to write books and make films: “You can’t complain about it unless you’re doing something about it!” Without the band behind him, he seemed to say, he’d be just another guy whining about art after one too many lagers.
The outlandish confidence of Art Brut’s debut, which seemed to demand critical success by sheer force of will, wasn’t born in a vacuum. On these box sets, we hear Argos’ journey to overcompensatory arrogance: On an early version of “Formed a Band,” one of several “Brutleg” demo tapes, he sounds almost bashful as he dryly explains, “And yes, this is my singing voice—it’s not irony, it’s not rock and roll.” All the pieces are there on the first take of “Modern Art”—guitars that build like a structure fire, wild screams that echo behind Argos as he screams, “Modern art makes me want to rock OUT!”—but he hadn’t quite mastered the authoritarian sneer he wields on the final version. The demos, though skippable for the average post-punk fan, are both humbling and humanizing, a crack in the assertive facade the band projected onto its albums and live shows.
Daniel D`Amico for SANREMO.FM
