Having spent the last ten years thriving on the opinion they polarise, the case of Courteeners remains an intriguing one.
They have, perhaps after old foes The Enemy, been the band that has drawn the most ire of critic and aficionado alike since the toppling of ‘indie landfill’ scene at the end of the noughties.
Yet, as the backlash and cackle has grown, so has their following – and impressively so – in the years that have followed St Jude, the barnstorming 2008 debut that still defines the Manchester troupe to this day.
So if the task was ever to produce something to confound any of those criticisms, it’s clear fairly soon into listening to Mapping The Rendezvous that it is not to be that record.
Opening with what sounds suspiciously like a holdover in ‘Lucifer’s Dreams’, the tone for this release is set better in the second track ‘Kitchen’, with its emphatic production, somewhat introspective lyrical themes and a slightly more gravelly sound to the vocals of Liam Fray than we have heard hitherto.
The album hits its stride quite early, in fact, with solid dancefloor material in ‘No One Will Ever Replace Us’ and a bittersweet monologue of a ballad in ‘De La Salle’ shoring up an album that leaps from occasionally mushy candour to cutting observation in typical Courteeners style.
There is clear evidence of musical progression, too, with a closer embrace of the synthesiser by the boys, and a certain maturity reflected in some of the album’s more contemplative tracks.
Indeed, in ‘Finest Hour’, we appear to be listening to a fairly world-wearied Liam, who ruminates to a piano chord that resurfaces with some force in closing track ‘The 17th’.
It’s also in what happens to be the lead single that we hear some of the most atypical music the group has produced to date, straying further into a certain dance-pop sound than has been heard previously, yet still unmistakably bearing Courteeners hallmarks.
Mapping The Rendezvous, though, for its strengths, is not that album that changes forever how this band are regarded.
The unconverted are somewhat unlikely to be won over by the likes of ‘Most Important’, a slightly syrupy number that repeats its title perhaps a few more times than may be necessary.
But then it never had to be that record – with a massive hometown show on the horizon and a level of devotion very few bands muster anymore, the Mancunians sound here like a group unabashed, unflinching and still very much with time on their side.
Words by Benedict Tetzlaff – Deas