The great hope is always that something will appear out of nowhere. It isn’t merely because this would save us all a lot of work of having to discover it. It’s because when it comes to great rock ditties, this is what history suggests has always happened. Whenever one great band or songwriter was needed most, they just swooped in to save the day.
Of course, upon closer examination this isn’t exactly true. All those great British rock bands that have burst out of anonymity with a series of sensational singles that all the rock critics wanted to write about and that everyone wanted to hear were, always, in fact, the result of years of uncelebrated work. And, of course, once it lost the element of surprise, nearly all of their music stopped being as effective.
If you’re looking for a great new series of guitar songs to save us from the dismal and dull world that we’ve created for ourselves, you’re likely to be thrilled by Quiet as a Mouse’s album “Nostalgia is fine…but…” and you’ll very possibly find yourself exclaiming “Where has this been hiding?”
The answer is that it’s been kept in plain sight and thus outside of the powers of observation of most of us. Alex Moran, the man behind the Quiet as a Mouse moniker, is a musician and songwriter, well-known and praised in the UK indie-rock scene.
These are the details that will benefit your understanding of the record. But you shouldn’t need them if you’re looking to find love for the opening track, and main single “Miss Melody,” a tune that brings to mind the jangly guitars of Britpop along with the tenderness and brittle beauty of the likes of Sparklehorse or Elliott Smith.
On “Peter Pan,” Moran heartbreakingly sings about wanting to fall to sleep and drift out of this ugly world. “Comfort Food” is a gentle acoustic-strum over which the singer tells of a loved one’s Sunday breakfast invites that always fail to arrive.
It’s a fun record full of well-crafted songs and gentle singalongs. And while the tunes nearly always serve a hook or two from the very start, there’s an emotional burden that you feel weighs throughout the album.
The American-styled, paranoid blues-rock of “Cocaine Soul” feels like it could be a Stateside hit in the right circumstances. “The Main I Am” is served with a hook that’s part Britpop-era Blur, and part football terrace chant. Meanwhile, “1999” comes complete with an anthemic chorus dedicated to all the people who fail to live in the moment.
Where does this leave us? Not stuck in the past, hopefully. The future’s unwritten and it’s going to be soundtracked, most likely, by a British man with a guitar talking about love, the weather and Sunday tea. If you’re looking toward the future, Quiet as a Mouse’s new album might just help usher it in.
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