Metronomy review, Small World: Too safe to grab your attention

The pastichey pastel palette of Small World doesn’t really target the mainstream

Metronomy (Alex Lambert)

Rumours of Metronomy’s newfound buoyancy have been greatly exaggerated. While it’s true that the band’s seventh album embraces perkier, janglier sounds, Small World’s opening lines are: “I don’t know/ Life and death/ Wait until no one’s left.” It takes listeners on a journey where the final destination is: “I have seen enough/ Pretentious/ Can’t look away.”

As referenced by the Nineties photograph on the album cover (taken by the mother of frontman Joseph Mount), these nine songs dial up the final decade of the last century. In a recent interview with The Sunday Times, Mount said he grew up feeling irked by “inanely positive” songs. He singled out The Boo Radleys’ earnestly average “Wake Up Boo!” (which Chris Evans played every bloody morning on BBC Radio 2) and (less fairly) REM’s “Shiny Happy People” as the main offenders. But now pushing 40 and busy parenting, he suspects it’s time to drop the arched eyebrow that characterised his early work. Perhaps those “inanely positive” themes might serve a purpose after all.

The problem with Small World is that its Nineties indie vibe – quirky synths and acoustic strums – is more earnestly pub-circuit “Wake Up Boo!” than wildly jubilant “Shiny Happy People”. Fans who’ve heard the single “Things Will be Fine” will know the sound. There’s a jaunty melody driven by merry strumming and pre-chorus crescendos. This casual jollity is offset by knowingly dry observations (“I remember the first time that I felt this weight on me/ Yeah, I was only 15”). As Mount beds back in with his band after the richly meandering solo excursion of Metronomy Forever (2019), there are pleasures to be had in that collective jamming. They clearly had fun summoning visions of corduroy and cloudy cider – nodding to early Bowie on “I Lost My Mind”. But that audible mateyness also feels too safe to grab your attention. It’s the likeably undistinguished sound of the comfortable lifestyle Mount describes on “Love Factory”: “Let’s go to the theatre/ Let’s meet up with friends.”

That’s not to say Small World lacks pleasures. Mount is a skilful melody maker – I liked the goofy Casio keyboard plunks of “It’s Good To Be Back”, and the moody pub-grunge bass line of “Loneliness on the Run”. Textural joy comes in the form of a whistling solo on “Lost My Mind” and a jazzy flute run on “Right On Time”. The puddles of piano that swell around the sentiments of “Life and Death” are lovely.

But I finished this album thinking about Mount’s complaint to The Sunday Times. He said he was sad that mainstream radio never played his songs. Yet the pastichey pastel palette of Small World doesn’t really target the mainstream. It’s crafted to slot neatly into the 6 Music playlist. Smart and friendly. Tasteful and tuneful. Just a little unsurprising.