For better or worse, Razorlight has released an album that has seemingly time traveled from 2006 with Olympus Sleeping.
Watching the rise and fall of Razorlight from the US has been quite a spectacle. Like other Americans, I got into Razorlight because of comparisons to the Libertines, and got into the Libertines because of comparisons to the Strokes. Despite having a certified platinum single called “America,” Razorlight never really made a big impact here.
Across the pond however, Razorlight were a much bigger deal. Their albums never charted in the US, but all three did in the UK, with their 2006 self-titled album debuting at the very top. They divided critics, with some lauding their rock star energy and others dismissing them as uninspired and derivative. Most of all, their charismatic frontman Johnny Borrell became as big as a celebrity as the Libertines’ Pete Doherty, and NME in particular couldn’t help but chronicle his every appearance. This scrutiny, coupled with Borrell’s notorious arrogance and well-publicized fights, led to an exceptional fall from grace, and by the time Razorlight released Slipaway Fires in 2008, Borrell was one of the most-hated men in the UK music scene. With critics panning the album and Borell deemed toxic, his bandmates left him, and it seemed Razorlight was finished.
In a recent interview with UK newspaper The Independent, Borrell reflects on the decade between the release of Slipaway Fires and Razorlight’s new album Olympus Sleeping, which features a new guitarist, bassist, and drummer. As the only thread connecting mid-2000s Razorlight with their current incarnation, he’s apparently spent the last ten years…avoiding the world. He doesn’t do modern tech like smartphones or social media, and hasn’t read articles about himself or his band since their peak. Unapologetic, he doesn’t get why he was singled out for “wanky” behavior, blaming NME and the like for exaggerating his faults, although he did self-deprecatingly narrate Noisey’s very entertaining “Definitive History of Landfill Indie” in 2016.
If it seems unbelievable that Borrell has spent the last decade off the grid, Olympus Sleeping proves it possible. For better or worse, Razorlight has released an album that has seemingly time traveled from 2006.
Olympus Sleeping starts with a skit that establishes the album’s mission statement – musician Adam Green stating “Genie? This is Aladdin. Print me a Razorlight album that doesn’t totally suck.” While this is a funny way to set the bar low, it’s also a surprisingly deep cut. Adam Green is best known as half of anti-folk duo the Moldy Peaches, but he’s had a pretty prolific solo career, and recently released a surrealistic musical film reinterpretation of the tale Aladdin. I doubt there’s a ton of people who have both heard of Adam Green’s Aladdin and listen to Razorlight in 2018, so it was nice to feel in the loop here. Regardless, all should enjoy hearing Borrell acknowledge the low expectations for Olympus Sleeping.
To his credit, Olympus Sleeping does indeed not totally suck, and is at its best when it feels like the band never left. “Brighton Pier” was love at first listen, with stomping drums, a bassline that often takes the melody, and jangly guitars straight out of “This Charming Man” by the Smiths. Lest this sound hackneyed, Razorlight adds synthesized organ and horns to the mix to really make it bounce. “Japanrock” is a little more no-frills, brimming with the fuzzy riffs that came to define the garage rock revival, and Borrell’s rapid-fire vocal delivery that’s sure to trip up anyone singing along. There’s even traces of their debut Up All Night on the album, as “Razorchild” has a marching rhythm comparable to “To the Sea,” while “Good Night” is a quick firecracker of song that has the intensity of “Rip It Up” or “Leave Me Alone.” These tracks all flash back to Razorlight at their peak, and even if that time has arguably long passed, they can all hold their own against the band’s greatest hits.
Occasionally, Olympus Sleeping shows that Borrell might have been a little too out of the loop. Case in point is “Carry Yourself.” I don’t care if I’m not the first reviewer to point this out, but it sounds exactly like a Two Door Cinema Club song. It’s a good track and all, but I wonder if Borrell would have recorded it having listened to Tourist History. Similarly, those who listened to the Libertines’ 2015 comeback album Anthems for Doomed Youth may recall it included a track called “Iceman.” An ominous sounding number, it was a cautionary tale warning not to get involved with the titular “iceman” as a metaphor for drug abuse. Borrell, who briefly played with the Libertines, has included on his 2018 comeback album a track called “Iceman.” This one’s a little folkier than the Libertines version, but again the iceman seems to refer to drugs, with lines like “the iceman sews up my pockets closed” and “someone tell the iceman he’s got to let me go.” If this was meant as a response to the Libertines version, it would explain feud-fuelled verses like “everybody’s got to stick to their lies,” but the identical title seems a peculiar choice. Otherwise, it’s one hell of a coincidence.
Olympus Sleeping occasionally does break the mold, and Razorlight seem to have developed a newfound appreciation for 80s kitsch. “Got to Let the Good Times Back Into Your Life” has hints of the Cars and the Police in its verses, though nothing as blatant as “Back to the Start” from their self-titled album, and it ends with an over-the-top guitar solo. It gives a lively, anthemic beginning to Olympus Sleeping, even if its chorus is prime beer commercial material. Turning up the cheese is “Midsummer Girl,” whose chorus gives us a monotone synthesizer and backup vocals to echo the track’s title. This seems like one-off misstep at first, but then “Sorry?” ups the backup vocals and “City of Women” ups the monotone synths. It’s nice to see a new side of Razorlight that’s less dependent on mid-2000s nostalgia, but this campiness make Borrell seem like he’s been AWOL for three decades, not one.
Much to the displeasure of his detractors, Olympus Sleeping comes off as a very confident album. There’s a bit of irony in this given, the lack of fanfare surrounding its release, but Borrell clearly feels reinvigorated with his new bandmates and won’t let past criticisms hold him back. Maybe he did get an unfairly bad rap from the music press, with everyone just piling on due to his popularity, or maybe he was a total wanker and Razorlight deserved all their flak. I have no idea. One thing is certain: if you liked Razorlight back in the day, you’ll find Olympus Sleeping a surprisingly enjoyable effort. There might be some truth to “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” since it’d probably be less welcome had the band continued to drop albums this past decade (see: the Kooks). For now, Razorlight’s revival is a mostly-gratifying step back in time.
You must be logged in to post a comment.