Bed wetters? Mommy’s boys? Princes
of the prosaic? Keane have
been
called many-a-name since their trillion selling debut album Hopes
and Fears; so many names, that, in fact, it became something of a counter-cultural
statement to admit that… you know… they’re actually
quite good.
It’s easy to see why and where the Keane backlash started. Their sensitive indie-posho flavouring was already providing musical indigestion to the masses with Coldplay and Travis (amongst others) being gobbled up by mums, dads, neighbours, great aunts… Also suspicious, was the Keane image; the designer stubble and black clothing seemed to cry out: ‘we’re serious musicians!’ but more importantly, it was simply hard to their plaintive, world-weary music seriously coming from the mouth of a man who looks eight years old.
After being championed by Radio 1’s Steve Lamacq and later, the NME, Keane suddenly found themselves at the top of the charts with single Everybody’s Changing. From here, the NME - only weeks after branding them ‘the best new band in Britain’ - were ready, with their characteristic 13-year-old ‘hype until famous’ routine, to slate them, too self-conscious of their own image to be associated with a band that might be considered *gulp* ‘uncool’. But it wasn’t just the NME, it seemed everyone fancied a swing. Keane themselves didn’t help matters either; singer Tom Chaplin’s lil’ urchin looks and overtly modest stage persona; ‘we’re so happy to be playing here!’ soon changed to; ‘oh, we’re so… um, happy to be playing here, and stuff’ due to their monotonous, endless touring. You got the feeling that if they were simply honest and said: “We’re so sick of playing this fucking song…” their credibility wouldn’t have plummeted.
Still, ‘credibility problem’ is where we find Keane in 2006. From Tom Chaplin’s initial stage freight, he’s quickly inherited the stage persona and gusto of Freddy Mercury, using his famous lead-singer mush to full advantage, neglecting his band, splashing the cash…chatting with Bono… all the while pianist / songwriter Tim Rice-Oxley looked on enviously; seeing this baby-faced egomaniac becoming a celebrity singing his songs. It seems these ill-feelings is almost enitrely the basis for their sophomore album. And the good news is that; arguments, bitching, discomfort, and bloated egos have made Under the Iron Sea mighty.
Lead single; ‘Is It Any Wonder?’, - complete with U2’s Achtung Baby-era keyboard riff – is apparently a stab at Tony Blair’s government, but it’s also an insight into the inter-Keane relations, with the chorus: “Is it any wonder I’m tired? Is it any wonder I feel uptight? Is it any wonder I don’t know what’s right?” Ostensibly, this is Keane’s Kid A. Despite a lack of jazz-noodlings, there’s an unsettling, gloomy ambience lurking around and behind every song; ‘Hamburg Song’ sounds almost exactly like Radiohead’s Motion Picture Soundtrack. Yet Keane’s depth has been overlooked from the start, their hit single Bedshaped is almost certainly about the fear of dying: “Take my hand and up we’ll go, in bright light, I don’t think so…” and Iron Sea’s Crystal Ball states: “Oh, Crystal Ball, save us all, tell me life is beautiful… I looked at myself in the eye, there’s no-one there.” It’s hardly foamy, family-orientated fun, is it?
Under The Iron Sea has been songwriter Rice-Oxley’s opportunity to flex his musical muscle. Where his piano was restrained behind Chaplin’s falsettos in Hopes and Fears, now his downtrodden and gorgeous melody frequently overshadows the singer. This allows Rice-Oxley the odd piano solo and even a cheeky instrumental in ‘Iron Sea’; perhaps one of the poignant things you’ll hear on a multi-platinum album. ‘Broken Toy’, a soaring and frequently haunting song, is, again, written about singer Tom Chaplin neglecting his band mates in favour of hollow celebrity. Whether the line: “I hope my days are lit by your face” is actually about Chaplin’s rosy cheeks, remains uncertain.
Undoubtedly, but deservedly, Under the Iron Sea will go on to sell millions. Perhaps this won’t remove their crown as indie-rock’s most unhip, but it matters little. Keane have made another beautiful album that deserves to be savoured. And not just by your mum.