The Gaslight Anthem
Handwritten

Few know about the existence of Elsie, a splendid album by the Horrible Crowes released in September 2011. Behind the band name was hiding Brian Fallon, on a reward vacation from his Gaslight Anthem, a group of charming citationists of which the blonde is the singer and the clumsy guitarist.

It was a slow and painful album, full of sulfurous ballads that accompanied my snowy winter. Fallon had definitively entered my heart and my 32-year-old room, making my sick heart leap when in March he announced the new album of the main band.

And here it is, Handwritten, with its 50s cover, featuring the musicians' names prominently and the symbol of Mercury Records, the new record label.

Brendan O'Brien at the production, and imagine the surprise, he also produced 4 Springsteen albums (among the most recent and least successful) an undisguised muse of the New Jersey band (indeed, just like the boss: they even align in natal origin). They wanted to release the new The River, but it turned out to be a b-side album by Pearl Jam (oh, they too produced by O'Brien).

The positive thing is that compared to the previous albums, this one doesn't present various smudges and trembles, the guitars do not limit themselves to mere strumming but dare even a few solos, and here and there a piano appears to sand the tables.

Furthermore, the former punk Ricky Cunningham seems to have reined in his demolishing voice and sings more convincingly, without messing around the borders of off-key as he often does live, venturing into spirited flights close to amateurism. Unfortunately, he puts his vocals at the service of uninspired lyrics in which, fortunately, "faith" and "heroes" disappear, but there is a flood of "blood" in half the songs. In the other half, he sets himself up as a modern Romeo descending on Earth to save maidens from bad lovers that embitter the soul.

Very little is really saved in this sonic stew: perhaps the initial "45", a good jog to catch one’s breath; maybe Handwritten if it didn't repeat the chorus too many times; probably Here Comes My Man, a piece written from the point of view of a girl embittered with her man (uh, what a novelty) in which, surprisingly, the chorus goes Sha la la. The concluding two tracks, Mae and the acoustic The National Anthem, deserve promotion, not coincidentally the only two songs that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the aforementioned Elsie.

The rest is confused and noisy, repetitive and weak, starting from Keepsake which has a verse just like Smile by Pearl Jam or Too Much Blood, where Brian exhausts himself as if he were Chris Cornell. Biloxi Parish gets lost in the fog of elongated choruses and Howl is noted for its short duration and spoken ending. There's still Mullholland Drive to discuss, another pseudo-redemptive ride, and Desire, the worst track in their entire repertoire with its "oh oh oh oh" not even Ligabue does anymore.

Lacking inspiration and ambition, it will sell a ton of copies, that's for sure.