Whatever Happened to Friday Night? - losingtoday.com

The Scratch
Whatever happened to Friday nights?
pony land
Description :
Five St Albans based dayglo decorated spike topped sorts tuned into radio sets from a yesteryear era where pop was at its zenith and songs of the day became a generations vocabulary rather than the here today forgotten tomorrow production line wannabes of now. Handcrafting rumbling sorties of purring party pack hybrids whose turntable trouncing brew is a mainlining feast of psychedelicised garage glam new wave mod, the Scratch like you and me remember those long far off days when the transistor was your first true love.

At 32 minutes in length ’whatever happened to Friday nights’ may appear comparatively short changing in an era of hour plus releases. However I’m firmly in the quality over quantity side of the fence. Eleven sub three minute gems lie in wait within this finitely cut cutie, trimmed of its fat and potently lean, these nuggets are throwbacks to a long since mourned and distant golden age of pop - perhaps the last - an age where pop inspired and invigorated, where tunes indelibly cast a long penetrative shadow upon the would be listener and so to instantly preserving a moment in time forever to be cherished and carried from the adolescence to the aged.

There’s no hiding the affection we hold for the Scratch - they have for several years - in fact as far back as their debut release ‘I relax to spiral scratch’ if truth be told - proved a much welcomed shot in the arm to our peculiar listening habits. One of a small select number of bands of whom we can honestly put up our hands and say without the need to pause for consideration whose releases are eagerly lapped up, excitably prized free of their wrapping and packaging and immediately made the centre of attention on the hi-fi when they arrive at our gaff.

Why - you might foolishly ask. Why ‘tis simple. The Scratch possess a pop knowingness, call it a rarefied pedigree, a craft perhaps - that echoes and taps into something curiously unseen and intangible, something you can’t quite put your finger on - yet that certain something that reaches inside and causes your nervous system to jangle and tingle with a strangely familiar delight.
The songs impact with an effervescent radiance that’s immediate and spontaneous, all to often ridiculously catchy (a la ‘girl’s world’ with its decidedly off kilter pub rock sprucing very much countering a path familiar to fans of Dr Feelgood albeit as though consorting with Brinsley Schwartz borrowing heavily riffs laid by the Modern Lovers) and insanely infectious, for those whose teeth cutting exposure to pop was the late 60’s mods such as the Small Faces and the Move, the glam rock of the early 70’s via T-Rex (the sassy and slinky riff scowls of the lip curled sneer like ‘freakshow‘ with its metered drop dead gorgeous blossoming kaleidoscopic eruptions), Sweet and Cockney Rebel or maybe late 70’s new wave a la the Buzzcocks (the ‘love bites’ era Shelley / Diggle thrill drill contagion of the anthem for narcissists ‘you want the world‘), Soft Boys and the Motors - ‘whatever happened to Friday nights’ will seem and feel like the years peeling away.

In fact ’whatever happened to Friday nights’ will read like a greatest hits package of sorts to the Scratch faithful with most of the cuts having featured previously as either the lead or indeed flip cuts of recent singles from the swoon driven throb of the power drilled florescent friction of the Flamin Groovies like hip hugging grind of ’against the grain’ to the (still sounds to us like) Supergrass at the height of their powers recalibrating old Buzzcocks gems as their own exuberance of ’destroyed by the look of love’ with its fuzzed up uber cool 60’s shade adorned psyche shimmies. Elsewhere fellow sources of fond admiration around these here parts the Bordellos are recalled as are Freed Unit, Cockney Rebel and the top table elite of the Elephant 6 Collective on the fuzzy and kooky bubblegum crookedness of the immensely insidious ’flicker’ while new cut ’freaks of the daylight’ sees St Albans opting for a spot of breezily light headed lazy eyed countrified loveliness which a fair few of you may well as a result be prompted to dig out your cherished copies of Blur’s ’modern life is rubbish’. Add in some grinding monochrome sapped glam kraut drilled fringe parting classicism via ’teen idol’ and finish the set off with perhaps at the twist of an arm the sets best moment - the Marriott / Davies hoodwinked by the Damned mod pogo shoe shuffle ’too busy thinking about me’ and you have yourself a certified speaker spanking statement of raw intent.

Key tracks -
All of them.
www.thescratch.co.uk

What can we say Mark... you are the star!
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