Roosbeef – Ze Willen Wel Je Hond Aaien Maar Niet Met Je Praten

www.roosbeef.nl

www.myspace.com/roosbeef

 

I love these guys. Incendiary first clapped eyes on them supporting Jarvis Cocker in the Paradiso a couple of years ago and fell in love with their attitude immediately. They played that night like headliners, not giving a flying fuck whether anybody in the crowd were watching or not. There was nothing humble about them and as such shone like a flashlight compared to most of the other support acts we’ve been forced to witness over the years. Their guiding light was the singer, a little teenage waif of a girl who seemed to simply have a strop on stage while her friends went about their business making pretty music around her and I’m glad to say that this album is exactly like that.

 

Ze Willen…. is an album that sounds like it’s been put together by a bunch of impeccably dressed music students, with clever chords and tempo changes here and there. They even get the trumpets out on occasion and that’s all very pleasant, but then they’ve been clever enough to realise that that’s not enough, so they’ve dragged somebody’s little sister into the bunch and let her wail and moan and whine about whatever the hell she wants over the top of it. It works beautifully.

 

This album is playful, clever and an absolute joy from start to finish. It’ll make you feel like your parents are aliens and you’ll convince yourself that you were adopted. If your train is late and you’re listening to this you’ll feel like it’s the end of the world. If your girlfriend dumps you, you may well end up dressing in black for six months and drinking a bottle of vodka for breakfast, “because there’s no point to living any more”. This album is so perfect for stroppy teenagers it’ll make you want to read Adrian Mole again and stock up on Clearasil and man sized tissues. I swear, if you’re a teenager in Holland right now, you may well have found your new favourite band. 

 

 Let the drama queen inside you live a little. Have a little roosbeef for dinner.

 

Words: Damian Leslie