2008年9月《卫报》评论:成功的转变

A successful turnaround
http://www.guardian.co.uk/film/2008/sep/05/popandrock

Keane are no longer soundtrack material for middle-class tantrums. They now have the sound of a band turning their frowns upside down

Jude Rogers
The Guardian, Friday September 5 2008

Question of the week: what the hell has happened to Keane? Their third album, Perfect Symmetry, comes out next month, and by the look of the neon CD that’s popped through my door, something’s gone wonky. The Keane I knew were the aural equivalent of a packet of Wotsits – cheesy, old-fashioned and weirdly comforting, but likely to raise bile after several bites. By the look of them now, they’ve been at the psychedelic Pringles.

Over at Popjustice.com you can see the change for yourselves. There’s Tom Chaplin with a new haircut, and a big yellow zip-up just like a new raver. His bandmates Tim Rice-Oxley and Richard Hughes stand by his side, resisting the attack of some bright blue set squares. It’s a peculiar tableau; one that suggests a maths class viewed through a spectrum of drugs, rather than a mum-pleasing band liked by Magic FM.

On the surface, then, the prospect of Keane 2.0 doesn’t bode very well. For starters, there’s nothing more embarrassing than an established band trying to be trendy. Even worse, it’s been 12 months since the Klaxons’ primary-coloured pop won the Mercury Prize, and 18 since their debut album, Myths of the Near Future, reared its daft, woozy head. New rave had been blasting around dancefloors for a whole year before that, so Keane’s attempt to hijack that look makes it appear like they are jumping on a bandwagon that’s already left town.

But here’s the thing: the buggers get away with it. Perfect Symmetry is a sparky pop album, a million watts brighter and bolder than their previous two records. It crackles with electronic sparkle rather than sluggish pianos, and it sounds full of hope, rather than dull, whingy sentiment. It’s no longer soundtrack material for middle-class tantrums, but the sound of a band turning their frowns upside down. And I say, good on them. After all, Keane are doing two brave things. First, they are trying to do something new. Reinvention in pop is a tricky thing to get right, and few bands try it. Most remain like proud packs, creating illusions of fraternal togetherness while they crank out the same, turgid songs. Eccentric individuals are much better at the caper, although men don’t do it much today, either. The musical offspring of David Bowie are almost exclusively female, with Björk and Alison Goldfrapp being rare examples of current artists who are happy to play with their worlds of performance.

Second, Keane are also being brave by embracing the pop of the 80s. I’m not talking cool, glossy electro, or the excesses of Italo disco. I’m talking about the slick, shiny greatness of bands like ABC and a-ha. Their producer, Madonna’s old charge, Stuart Price, has harnessed these sounds well, and given good ballast to his charges’ catchy melodies. He also helps remind us how good pop actually was in the mid-80s, and helps rescue its clout from the Guilty Pleasures brigade.

By reinventing themselves and reinforcing pop’s legacy, I also think that Keane are being canny. After all, being a huge act isn’t an easy ride any more. They’ve already made two albums of sad, epic rock, and they’re not relying on their fans to put up with a third one. They’re trying to widen their eyes, and in these difficult times all big acts should follow suit.

Two recent experiences brought this home to me clearly. The first came two Saturdays ago outside Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium, when I saw touts slashing ticket prices for the opening night of Madonna’s world tour. The second was a week later, when I saw REM play to a half-empty Twickenham Stadium. For bands of this size, live music was supposed to take care of their financial future. On this evidence, it certainly won’t.

What interested me was how both parties responded to their situations. Madonna seemed irked with her audience, shouting sarcastically at the fans in the back who weren’t screaming loudly enough. By contrast, REM seemed emboldened. They rocked through their back catalogue with pleasure, twisting old songs into beautiful new shapes. They sounded fresh and immediate, and in a peculiar way, just like a new band.

Keane do, too. With both them and REM burns a fiery reminder of why they started in the business, why their musical pasts matter, and how they feel their presents should follow. What’s more, their reinventions work, because they brim with energy and life. Energy, in fact, that could never be invented.