The Verve – Forth

The Verve – “Sit and Wonder”
(from Forth)

Continuing with this year’s theme of veteran British rock bands from the 1990s that are still making new music today, for better or worse, noise rock heavyweights the Verve have returned with their fourth full-length album after a ten-year hiatus, cheekily titled Forth.

After listening to Forth for the first time, I immediately sent out a quick and exclamatory e-mail to the only other person on the planet I know who is as remotely dedicated to these past-their-prime British rock bands as I am: “It’s incredible! Amazing! A helluva lot better than the new Primal Scream!”

But that’s not entirely accurate. I should have written: “It’s not bad. I expected worse.” Because the truth of the matter is that in growing up with certain bands, you become invested in their fate — being a fan becomes part of your identity. So if you’ve been a fan of the Verve, up until now you could have recommended with confidence any of their three albums or earlier EPs and singles to your friends, knowing that they wouldn’t be disappointed if they happened to pick up a Verve record on a whim at the local record shop. They had a finite discography and you knew it inside and out; what could possibly go wrong if you admitted to someone that you were a fan?

But with the band freshly reformed and releasing a new album, the odds are pretty good that they’ll find some way to ruin their reputation (and given Dick Ashcroft’s solo output that was a pretty realistic fear). You close your eyes, press play, and brace yourself for the worst: What if it sucks? Have they always sucked and I’m just realizing it now? Oh Jesus, have I dedicated myself to a band that sucks for well over a decade?

So when I listen to Forth and discover that, in fact, it does not suck, I am overjoyed. Vindicated. The opening track “Sit and Wonder,” which clocks in at a mean seven minutes, serves up everything a desperate fan could hope for: loose, free-form Storm in Heaven jamming mixed with taut A Northern Soul licks and Captain Rock lurching over the song as a compelling, rueful narrator. Richard Ashcroft and Nick McCabe have always shared a sort of Mick and Keith level of creative co-dependency, one never amounting to much without the other, but when their egos clash together they create some magnificent sparks. McCabe’s swirling effects pedals and Ashcroft’s high-pitched growl; they just work so well together, like black leather and bright city lights.

“Love Is Noise” – yeah, it’s grown on me.

“Love Is Noise” was an unnerving choice for lead single: flashy, dancey, monkeyish “ooh-ooh, aah-aah” vocal loops. Am I in for another embarassing episode of Richard trying to be Robbie Williams? Thankfully, no. There are a few tracks that are clearly spearheaded by Ashcroft — the swaggering Stones balladry of “Rather Be”; the uplifting, orchestral pop of “Valium Skies”; the delicate piano pomp of “I See Houses” — but make no mistake, Forth is the Nick McCabe comeback record. Every track, from the gentle sheets of reverb on “Judas” to the distortion of “Noise Epic,” is a testament to McCabe’s six-string.

Still, Forth is fourth best in the Verve canon. It’s a thoroughly solid record, but there’s no “Bittersweet Symphony,” no “This Is Music,” no “Gravity Grave,” no ecstatic moments of clarity that lift me from my seat. Of course, there are no duds, either (”Columbo” being the possible exception, but maybe that’s because I can only think of the bumbling TV detective when I hear the name). Forth doesn’t cover any new ground for the Verve, but it at least shows that they’re still masters of their terrain.

And yeah, the fourth best Verve record is still a helluva lot better than the new Primal Scream.