The Tambourines are from London. They should just lie and say they’re from Chorlton-cum-Hardy as their sound is as Mancunian as they come. In fact, a fair chunk of this album sounds like a bunch of Oasis b-sides. Ok, perhaps there’s a bit of Leicester in there too as they try to funk things up in a Kasabian kind of way but, then, they were simply trying to be the new Oasis anyway. Weren’t they?
The only times The Tambourines don’t sound like the Gallaghers they sound like Teenage Fanclub and ultimately it’s this that makes them seem like they’re at least ten years too late for this kind of thing. The thing is, though, if you give them a second chance you’ll probably not care very much about all that and realise that there are some pretty decent songs here. They’re not going to blow your mind or make you feel like you’ve just witnessed the dawn of a new era – it’s more likely to make you feel like you’re witnessing the dying embers of one that’s long gone cold – but they will still entertain you. Whether you’re listening to the full on ballsiness of Come Together or Falling Slowly, or the sedate torch song Naissance De la Folie, you’re in pretty safe hands. You’ll probably tap your fingers along with most of the songs in a reasonably pleasing fashion and you may well enjoy the synth noises in Sally O’Gannon quite a bit, but you can’t help but shake the feeling that this band’s moment has already been and gone, which is a shame because they’ve obviously got talent.
If they’re not careful, they could end up playing only to people like me, who remember 1994 fondly and surely that’s just not enough for this kind of thing? Nobody wants another Embrace, do they?