“No Elvis, Beatles or the Rolling Stones in 1977!” quoth the Clash in that oh-so-significant year of pop culture upheaval. It was the unofficial start of the punk era, the year Star Wars first appeared in the local bijou, as well as the year that Ash singer/guitarist Tim Wheeler and bassist Mark Hamilton first appeared in the Irish town of Downpatrick. All three milestones come into play on Ash’s full-length debut, 1977. Being so young, the band (filled out by drummer Rick McMurray) have always had little trouble wearing their influences on their sleeves. Their post-pubescent power trio pop is equally inspired by American indie icons like Sonic Youth and Dinosaur Jr., as it is by more important things. You know, girls, school, sci-fi, comic books and action flicks, all your standard teenage kicks.
1977, which follows last year’s Trailer compilation of singles and EPs, finds Ash teetering on the brink of maturity–only they’re plainly fighting it by throwing their weight in the other direction. The boys have often proclaimed their worship of British metallers like Iron Maiden, and all of a sudden, Wheeler’s guitar playing has taken a decidedly heavy tone–dig the overboard wankouts on “Lose Control” or the epic anthem, “Goldfinger”, which conjures up scary images of Teenage Fanclub in leopard-print spandex pants.
That’s not to say the sprites have sacrificed their childlike punk ’tude. The storming ode to Hong Kong superstar Jackie Chan, “Kung Fu”, takes its chopsockey cues from the Ramones, while the record’s finest moment, the giddy “Girl From Mars”, takes a standard pogo singalong tone until it explodes in a maelstrom of guitar freakout in the J Mascis vein.
The album occasionally trips over its own giant steps. “I’ll Give You Anything” is a generic metalcore stomp, and the summer romance of “Oh Yeah” over-reaches into an undeveloped “Champagne Supernova”–but that’s to be expected in a young band. The real flaw of 1977 lies in the hands of someone who should have known better. The production by Oasis knobber Owen Morris is excessively noisy and often quite murky, a possibly conscious effort to tone down the band’s preternaturally Pop! qualities and give them a more “alternative” vibe. As a result, the punk rock gets muddied, while experimental bits like the string section on the shoulda-been-splendid “Gone the Dream” are strangely obscured.
Still, the scope and high spirit of Ash’s Big Boy Rock is a refreshing change from the wannabe-somebody, anybody copycatism of today’s successful post-teen combos. The best bits on 1977 ultimately show Ash to be a rare commodity in these troubled times, a relatively traditional pop-rockin’ singles band par excellence. Just like Elvis, the Beatles.