The Rifles: The Great Escape

There's a psychology experiment involves a tester saying to the testee: "Whatever you do, don't think about a pink elephant!".

There's probably a much deeper meaning to the experiment, but all we choose to take from it on this occasion is that once an idea has been lodged in your mind, it's very difficult to shake it.

The Great Escape conjures images of being trapped in isolation, forced to entertain yourself by means of a bouncing ball; a jovial time which takes a turn for the serious; an experience that leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. All of these are impressions which the musical content of The Rifles' sophomore album fails to shake time and again.

Like the aforementioned 'ball bouncing', The Great Escape for a while. "Science is Violence" blasts in with an uncanny amalgamation of The Last Shadow Puppets, The Walkmen and The Smiths and then elevates the concoction by means of monastic chants, group choruses and able use of guitar effects and production. More importantly though, there is a beating heart beneath the sheen, a trait which continues through to the album's title track.

"The Great Escape" is an undeniable feat of songwriting: its memorable hooks dig a little deeper into the psyche by means of a tale of the role of escapism within the piling pressure of our modern world. A world where fear and uncertainty adorn every corner.

Any prestige garnered within the first two tracks is then promptly squandered as the boys churn out vast quantities of uninspiring retreads. They may come equipped with the Paul Weller seal of approval, but he hasn't done anything interesting in twenty-five years either. It's a lot of slack to bear. Actually, we'll nix the rope analogy in favour of a pie related one. Their second album is a pie with delicious pastry which sadly is filled entirely with aircraft hangers. The sumptuous pastry is satisfying, but once you reach the middle - where you are supposed to discover the meat (or mycoprotein edible fungus) - there is nothing but echoing world of space and sterility.

Fulfilling the symbolic role of the pie-base are the tracks which enter the fray from "Out in the Past" where the band finally spice up their arrangements with a simultaneously chilling, downbeat, yet optimistic groove which sadly curtails itself with a lesser outro all too soon.

The Rakes' crimes are not huge, they're just guilty of being another eminently competent yet often dull retread amongst the throes of similarly dull jangly rock bands fronted by skinny white guys singing in a slurred laddish manner. If the prison of our modern era is complacency and mundanity: The Rifles just handed you a spoon.