Again Into Eyes, debut album from London based five-piece S.C.U.M., passes by in a blur. Or perhaps “blur” comes with too many positive connotations. A heady musical exploration, a swirling rollercoaster of highs and lows, this is not. No, sadly this isn't one of those albums to lose yourself in, where a forty-minute runtime seems to pass by in a fleeting moment. In fact, the aforementioned “blur” is probably better described as a smear, a tired smudge of indistinct sounds so lacking in vigour as to barely register throughout its duration.
Channelling an obvious admiration for The Cure and Bauhaus through an appreciation of Interpol and other modern '80s post-punk interpretations, S.C.U.M. seem too in awe of their influences to make a convincing case for yet more moody, bass-driven gothic rock. Taking influence from other musicians is by no means a bad thing - it has been in the constant reinterpretation of the past that popular music has moved forwards at such a rate, and in so many different directions, over the last fifty years – but on Again Into Eyes, S.C.U.M. seem content merely to pastiche rather than elaborate on what has gone before them.
Instrumental in its failure is the flat production style. A lifeless mix of fuzzed out bass and howling keyboards, the record is neither sufficiently widescreen to achieve the cinematic sweep of The Cure, nor is it harsh enough to gain the punchy directness of the more punk end of post-punk. Instead it sits in a rather faceless no man’s land, devoid of any strong identity whatsoever.
The standout moments of Again Into Eyes come when S.C.U.M.’s songwriting is of sufficiently high quality to distract from the drab production. The colossal lead single, ‘Amber Hands’, pulses with an anthemic drive as Thomas Cohen’s heavily reverbed vocals, reminiscent of Interpol’s Paul Banks but with an unsettling dose of vibrato, skirt the periphery beneath waves of crashing guitars and drums. The gothic disco of ‘Whitechapel’ closes the album on a promising note, feeling somewhat like the light at the end of a particularly uninteresting tunnel, and maybe points towards a more fruitful direction for the band to take in the future. These moments are few and far between, however, and too many songs on this record lack the distinguishing features required to save them from slipping by unnoticed.
As a mood piece, Again Into Eyes is mildly successful. With Cohen acting as a macabre tour guide, leading the listener through to the record’s darker corners, it consistently conjurs gloomy images of rain-battered city streets and love lost, most notably on the piano-lead ‘Requiem’ and ‘Paris’. The trouble is, the album as a whole lacks the intrigue to forge an emotional connection with its listeners, and is thus unlikely to stick in the memory for long.