TV Pins - Aircutter (2024)

In Shane Meadows’s criminally underrated Once Upon A Time In The Midlands, a low-key but quietly heartbreaking tale of different kinds of love is played out with the instantly recognisable Spaghetti Western motifs of Sergio Leone and Ennio Morricone, the exaggerated displacement of one illuminating the commonality of the other. TV Pins are an English band about to release their debut album, and despite hailing from London and the Midlands, they sound like they have been playing Kegger parties in Athens, Georgia for years.

Much has been made of similarities to Crowded House, but that’s just one thread to be pulled from this mass of Americana, and really, it is that keening voice of James Schofield that, more than anything, is reminiscent of the Aussie Statesmen. It is a comforting voice that runs up its range when least expected, the voice of a certain nostalgia, a particular strong-willed North Americanism, a voice that does not doubt itself.

The Nirvana meets Big Star drive of Oh Yeah sounds huge from the start, with a great bassline and more hooks than a fisherman’s car boot sale. The sound of cheerleaders and bleachers it could be the very different path that the band took to become TV Pins, which has shaped them differently than others and could be that the sound of California as they imagine it and bring it to life is just beautiful guesswork, but that removal of definite reality, definite knowledge, gives the whole album an elusive quality that an actual American band would find more difficult.

Bye Bye Reseda is a case in point, unless there’s a Reseda near Watford Gap Services. It is a teasing, initially slow-moving slab of fabulous Kansas/Foreigner piano riffery, hitting a serious stride of double-time drums and 70’s horn motifs. A reminder of videos of white men with afro’s, it should be played loud in a bar where they still spit on the floor. Magpie Eyes, by contrast, is an upbeat acoustic number in the vein of Cast, The La’s or The Waterboys, so it is not all night swimming in heated pools, this is simple but effective. Its simplicity is hard-won, though, riding on a Post Beatles McCartney wave and an arpeggiated Mandolin.

Roundabout brings memories of Rod Stewart in his finery and pomp, pure highs from Maggie May and the class of You Wear It Well, the descending chord progression in the middle is sublime, big chiming guitars and solid dynamics, it also has the air of one of those 60’s songs where the band sound like they don’t want to finish playing, happy to improvise around a set of chords indefinitely, it has last song in the set written all over it. Cool White Jug, like a Mama’s and Papa’s album track, is the absolute sound of hopeful spring, no negativity, just a Byrdsian melody of happy resolve.

Shining Light does, to be fair, have the air of the Crowded House boys, but mostly in the melody, as the beautiful pedal steel and perfection of the harmonies steal the show, the echoes of country drawing you into the song’s soft embrace. Wishing Pool’s 80’s derived excellence, especially the bassline, sounds like some long-lost John Cougar-Mellencamp hit, with added La La La’s. One of them songs that sounds so perfectly formed, you must have heard it before.. Everysingletime returns to the Americana of before, as the moody intro leads into the nerve-jangled but upbeat sound of AM radio playing in your dreams, with another earworm chorus to soothe you indefinitely.

Daisy Saturday Night could be about a goodtime girl or nocturnal gardening, but it is another incredibly catchy and well-written rock song, Jessies Girl meets The Knack via Joe Jackson, hooks galore again because these folks seriously know how to write. Last Rites starts like The Clash circa Combat Rock before turning into a harmony drenched blast of summer madness reminiscent of The Lemon Twigs. Aircutter itself is a great stadium-sized thing, Kings Of Leon/U2/Simple Minds style, with another spectacular vocal introduction, bells and whistles polished like an old army coat. A superb track.

We end on Tonight, an ageless lament on the passing of something and the need for a human touch, an acoustic walk through thoughts that trip each other as they leave.

Many ghosts talk to you while listening to this – Springsteen, REM, The Finn brothers and more, but it has a heart and a swagger that is all its own. Hopefully, to be heard floating from the tents of whoever can afford to go to Glastonbury this year while you watch the twitching ears as they slowly recognise brilliance like a cartoon dog following the smell of a particularly flavoursome pie.