This album was released on July 5. For a brief rundown of August albums, see below.
For my money, John Moore's run of five albums this century has been nothing short of immaculate. Half Awake was the perfect Black Box Recorder hangover. Lo-Fi Lullabies and Floral Tributes were hopelessly beautiful. Knickerbrocker Glory was freewheeling and musically accomplished. Finally, John's latest album, It's Hell Out There, unfurls like a complex psychological thriller. I cannot think of too many artists with a run as good as that.
And still it was with a certain sense of dread that I approached this record. The cover picture was unsettling and the album title did not leave much to the imagination. And indeed, It's Hell Out There starts in a cold, claustrophobic manner. The title song is a memorable acoustic riff carrying the sound of smooth paranoia that should nonetheless hit quite close to him. The imagery is evocative and the references are desperately recognisable. "Billy Fury Way" ('you’re going to lose your life today down on Billy Fury Way...') is darker still, and the atmosphere is unnerving. These two songs make up one hell of a start, and I do mean hell.
Then, however, the album suddenly grows more upbeat, as evidenced on both the bouncy "The North Sea Fisherman" and the anthemic "Fantic Dreams (Of Sweet Sixteen)". The latter is particularly good, capturing all of that youthful vigour and recklessness and madness. "If The Beatles Had Never Existed", with its tastefully deranged "I Am The Walrus" noises in the background, is a couple of light years better than a certain Danny Boyle creation. "October Rose" is a classic John Moore ballad that suddenly transforms into a propulsive rocker right in the middle, and the piano-based "(Life Is A Fucking) Fiasco" has the most elaborate instrumentation on the album. Lyrically, it manages to straddle the line between catharsis and despair, and the melody is inspirational.
The laidback "Oh Baby, What Have You Done?" is the sort of intimate, tortured song I could almost imagine on a John Moore album from 2014, and God knows I do not mind that at all. The tune, though, has more light to it, and the Trump line cannot be denied, or argued with. Finally, "No One Listens To Music Anymore" is filled with rock'n'roll allusions and love for the lost art of, well, listening to music. An art that should not really be lost on anyone who listens to this album.
I would not call It's Hell Out There a difficult record, but - with its 50-plus-minute running time - it certainly is a challenging listen. Deeply rewarding, too, as some of John's best songwriting is on here. It is a very personal record, the only kind that he makes. It is raw and intense, very much like the album cover that I have grown to like quite a bit after some time spent with the music.
AUGUST RUNDOWN
Ezra Furman's Twelve Nudes is brilliant glam-rock insanity and very much a five-star LP, Nérija's Blume is exciting jazz from London and Thrashing Thru The Passion is the first Hold Steady album that I like (am I getting old?). Oh and of course: Lana del Rey has released the same fucking album for the fifth time.
