Album Review: Ted Leo and the Pharmacists - The Brutalist Bricks

Take a look at the opening paragraph to any given review (including this one) of a new Ted Leo record and you’ll find him heralded as rock and roll’s best kept secret; underrated to a criminal degree. Each new release ushers in fresh speculation among fans about whether or not this album could be the one to finally give Ted that richly deserved widespread popularity that, alas, always mysteriously fails to materialise.  Whilst the cynic in me suspects that Ted’s latest effort will do little to alter this state of affairs (if it hasn’t happened by now, it probably isn’t going to happen), those of us who are in on the secret are treated to yet another predictably brilliant collection of songs.

The Brutalist Bricks answers the criticisms levelled at the band’s previous album Living With The Living. Detractors of Ted’s last effort accused the album of being over-long and scattershot which, to be fair, did somewhat jarringly zig-zag from Irish folk ditties to hard punk to straight-faced reggae, leaving the album lacking a sense of cohesion compared to its tightly focused predecessor Shake The Sheets. Thankfully, with The Brutalist Bricks, Ted reverts to creating an album with an assured sense of identity; cultivating a stripped down, back-to-basics production style which allows the songs to sound like exactly what they are: four men playing rock music together.

Also in contrast to the last record, Ted has ruthlessly sliced every ounce of fat from the edges of these songs. Nowhere to be found are any of his usual six or seven minute epics and, more encouragingly, neither does he drag us through codas and midsections of endless repetition. Unusually for the band, nothing on this album sticks around for much longer than three minutes. Opening song and lead single ‘The Mighty Sparrow’ charges out of the speakers with “When the cafe doors exploded / I reacted to... / Reacted to you” and proceeds to rattle through its two and half minutes with no loss of energy or focus, utilising its melodic refrains the perfect number of times before making way for the next song on a wave of momentum.

This no-frills rock and roll style, however, means that we have to spend a little more time than usual humouring Ted’s penchant for second wave punkrock. Songs like ‘The Stick’ and ‘Where Was My Brain?’ might sound fun to play, and could well translate nicely in the live setting,  but their disregard for melody make them seem like the work of a lesser band and below Ted’s abilities. When flanked by the ridiculously hook-ridden album highlights of ‘Even Heroes Have To Die’ and ‘Bottled In Cork’, the attempts at straight punk music fall especially flat. The listener’s frustration increases when songs like ‘Gimmie The Wire’ prove that Ted is perfectly capable of combining furious rock and roll with his usual ear for melody.

Nevertheless, the rare low points rush by so quickly that the momentum of the album isn’t marred in the same way as some of his other albums. Aside from perhaps Shake The Sheets, this is probably Ted’s most cohesive collection of songs and, most importantly, are of just a high standard as we expect from the man. For all its contrasts with previous records, The Brutalist Bricks is essentially business as usual for Ted Leo and the Pharmacists: effortless execution of excellent rock songs.