Considering that Electricity in Our Homes have in the past been accused of being something of a fleeting band, all style-over-substance, it comes as a rather giant middle finger to naysayers that they would then do the stark opposite of this and spend five years honing their sound, taking their time, and releasing their debut album when they are good and ready - not simply striking when the iron is hot in the hope to garner more coverage. The musical landscape has altered drastically since EIOH started in 2007, post-punk revivalism was still rabid at the time and could be heard in work as off-centre and wonky as their own, right down to the Radio 1 daytime playlist. So, it proves as even further testament to both their talent and tenacity that in 2012 - a period in which the genre has undeniably fallen out of favour – that they sound so fresh, inventive and intriguing.
Possibly the greatest achievement EIOH have managed to accomplish on their debut album is the masterful balance between the weird and the wonderful, persistently bent, idiosyncratic and intensely infectious in their song-craft, meaning the album exists in a wonderful and constant flux between pop and experimentation. While stylistically they owe a debt or two to the days of post-punk, it doesn’t take a great deal of listening to reveal more depth to what they do; opener ‘Drumming Around The Room’ and ‘Buddy Lemonade’ both have a quintessentially classic British feels to them, the former with surreptitious nods to the psychedelic era and the latter a sly wink to The Kinks.
Also, due to their now five-year existence as a band, the album exudes a confidence and synergy - the band members seemingly in intrinsic sync with one another. The bass and drums don’t so much just work together as mold into one heavenly combination. That said, they too use this comfort zone against themselves - instead of relying on what’s easy, predictable and accomplishable they almost go out of their way to play their instruments against one another on occasion, making sonic creations that stick out at weird, mangled angles, but still succeedding in retaining a sense of cohesion and stylistic uniformity.
The reworking of ‘Appletree’ from its earlier incarnation as a single is an absolute marvel; the pace is given a thundering jolt, almost taking things up to ESG territory (but not quite). The brass inclusion could have gone painfully wrong but instead acts as one of the albums boldest achievements, a lesson in reserved and thoughtful arrangement, with subtlety and tact executed seamlessly, and as a result the accompaniment only adds to the song, never detracts.
‘South of France’ is an interesting number, perhaps the only moment on the album where the vocals are strained or forced, breaking the minimal, icy vocal shell that usually accompanies the songs. When the vocals hit these points there is a slightly unhinged, manic quality to it that injects a glorious sense of vivacity to the record, sounding like Tom Verlaine backed by Liquid Liquid.
The album ends with another homage to the Davies brothers in the wonderful ‘Play it Over’ - a quirky little ditty that ends the album with bucket-loads of charm and sees the return of the gloriously fitting brass accompaniment. Just as the album dies down and silence breaks, a hidden track rears its head and ends the album with more of a bang. As a rambunctious pop nugget puts the album to bed for good. It was worth the five year wait.