THE JOHN SALLY RIDE – Melomaniacs

Throughout their fifth album, power pop band The John Sally Ride explore various different topics that’ll be familiar to the obsessive music fan. You’ll find songs here that recall a big “leap forward” in terms of available formats (‘The First Time On CD’), tread the fine line between apprehension and excitement when a much-loved band returns after time in the wilderness (‘Their New Album’), and celebrate the importance of lyric sheets in a pre-internet age.

In keeping with the JSR’s 2023 LP ‘The Other Women’ – on which the band shared a tune with a sarcastic nod towards a problematic Kiss hit (‘Christine Sixty’) and a number that pokes fun at the misguided opinions some prog fans have regarding the musical validity of punk (‘Sheena Is A Prog Rocker’) amongst many familiar titular twists – there’s definitely an emphasis here on fun, but ‘Melomanics’ should never be considered a novelty record. In fact, the album’s title actually refers to having an obsessive or abnormal attraction to music, so everything here comes with a hefty amount of musical love, knowing those who get the references will feel an instant attraction to the sounds within.

‘His Record Collection’ is an instant classic, as far as the band’s catalogue is concerned. The track’s opening strums and punchy bass immediately call back to the bouncy 60s and 70s sounds beloved by Jellyfish, and allows The John Sally Ride’s own DIY charm to shine. The musical backdrop sounds like a cross between an old 60s deep cut and a demo from Jim Boggia, and its embellishments – ranging from a pointy sounding lead guitar, a couple of futuristic synths and an unexpected acoustic underscore – are all busy enough to be interesting, without detracting from the vocal. That vocal manages to be the centre of attention wherever the music goes. This is partly due to its slightly fey, classic pop tones, but mainly thanks to the lyrical content which goes into detail about a music obsessive, his filing systems and how there are albums in every room of his house. It’s certainly something that most listeners will relate to. It’s also a real thrill to hear a song name-checking something as unfashionable as Status Quo – even going as far to mentioning their underrated keys man, Andy Bown. Being Americans, the JSR mispronounce “Status” as if it has a double T, but there’s such a knowing wink here, they should probably be forgiven.

On another great number, the self-explanatory ‘His First Kinks Album’ presents a tale where the listener meets a music fan who buys his first Kinks album at a much later date than he probably should have. The task of navigating their catalogue proves daunting, but the man – being a proper music fan – isn’t about to plump for a Greatest Hits. Attracted by the bright green sleeve, the protagonist opts for 1972’s ‘Everybody’s In Showbiz’ and isn’t sure he likes it. The song paints this as “the worst Kinks album”, but the lad certainly isn’t put off. He plays it until he likes it, and then shops for other Kinks fare. Musically, the track is almost as bright as its featured lyric; the pop-ish vocals are a brilliant fit with the mid-tempo arrangement, setting an almost Posies inspired feel at times. The blend of guitar and hard struck piano catches the ear almost immediately, and the lead guitar fills provide a suitable nod to The Kinks’ own output from the early 70s. Overall, it’s a number that works most strongly through its narrative, but in time, the simple vocal melody will also make a positive impression. [And for the record: the best bits of ‘Everybody’s In Showbiz’ are better than most of the now critically lauded ‘Muswell Hillbilles’, and the worst Kinks album is actually ‘Preservation Act, Part 1’ from 1973…]

A feel good arrangement powers ‘Their New Album’ with the band really working a 60s power pop groove with ease. Loud-ish guitars chime above a dancing bass, creating something a little more complex than first appears, but the big draw is the light-ish voice which creates a great contrast throughout. There’s a very late sixties flavour to the vocal; it’s clear, but not too clean, conveying a slightly psych-y feel within the melody. The transition between beat group sounds and more progressive flavours is also demonstrated in some fine guitar work here, too: you’ll find some great melodic fills and a bridge that sounds as if it were designed for electric sitar. Wherever the music goes, though, this is one of those tracks that really highlights the JSR’s gift for an old school melody. The same applies to ‘The Band I Can’t Stand’ where power pop guitars and a shameless barrage of handclaps and cowbells work themselves into a retro frenzy. Here more than anywhere else, you’ll find a strong influence from The Posies – not just in the early 70s musical lifts, including a very Stringfellow/Auer inflected harmony during the middle eight – but also in the slightly sneering lyrical content. Luckily, any negative vibes within the lyric is balanced perfectly by a semi-sugary musical backdrop which showcases a great guitar tone, busy piano work that nods towards Mark Oliver Everett and his toy instruments, and even an a cappella moment to reinforce the retro mood. If this doesn’t draw you further into this band’s world, not much will.

In a slight change of style, it’s acoustics to the fore for ‘Music(I/F)an’, a glam-ish affair that immediately evokes the sound of 1973. As with some of the other material on this LP, the interplay between rhythm guitar and a leading role for the bass always results in something great, but the busy vocal wins out, sharing jubilant tones on a lyric that celebrates the blurred lines between the fan, the jobbing musician and the professional. ‘God Bless The Music Press’ shares a similarly strong rhythm but a much warmer sound throughout, and the relatively simple pop powers a lyric celebrating those days of devouring new musical recommendations in a pre-internet age. The music leans towards a love for early 70s Kinks, and as you can imagine, that makes a perfect vehicle for solid harmony vocals and prominent guitar. In terms of championing a retro pop style, the tune at the heart of this number is certainly one of the album’s best.

Elsewhere, the aforementioned ‘First Time On CD’ shares a wordy lyric regarding the absence of pops and crackles set against a Badfinger-ish tune that’s rather mellow – even by the JSR’s usual standards – but some great harmonies ensure there’s always a strong melodic interest. Those who’ve enjoyed the cheekier aspects of the John Sally catalogue in the past will certainly raise a smile at one of the most 2024-centric moments, when a mention of how you replaced your old records with CDs only to replace those with records again provides a very satisfying pay-off. Lyrical geeks will also love ‘The Lyric Sheet’ – an ode to poring over lyric sheets on the inner sleeve of a vinyl LP. Making this piece feel more lyrical, musically speaking, the band bins their typical pop in favour of a floaty, acoustic sound where busy guitar work is contrasted by mellow vocals, and the JSR offer the perfect tribute to really unfashionable baroque pop.

In keeping with Dunbar and the JSR’s previous works, ‘Melomaniacs’ is centred around three and four minute tunes, which allows for the poppier elements to shine through. This lack of musical padding really allows the listener to focus more on the chorus hooks – and on that score, it’s a record that doesn’t sell anyone short. In ten heartfelt and familiar sounding songs, this album is solid proof that great power pop – despite drawing influence from old stock – can still sound pleasingly fresh.

January 2025

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