The Academic - Tales from the Backseat: A Review

The state of modern rock music has dwindled so drastically recently that we’re now accustomed to expect synthesised pop violins or computer-generated organs on each new record we hear. Since Noel Gallagher released his last album, much to the disappointment of rock traditionalists, scissors have even entered the fray.

So that’s why it’s entirely surprising when you stumble upon a 10-track LP like The Academic’s breakout record – and realise there is still some good in the world yet.

We’ve learnt in the past that the best selection of music can come from the most unlikely of places. But the garage of four humble young lads from Ireland is still one to drop jaws when you sit down (or get up) with a beer in your hand for this 34-minute stroke of beauty.

Craig Fitzgerald (vocals), Matt Murtagh (guitar), Stephen Murtagh (bass) and Dean Gavin (drums) grew up in Mullingar, a town in Ireland. They only formed in 2013 but have hit the ground running, and Tales from the Backseat is their first effort at lighting up the music scene. It’s already gone to number one in their home country, showing just how far the band has come since their inception four or so years ago.

Taking inspiration from the likes of The Strokes and Arctic Monkeys, the formula for The Academic’s sound and musical style is pretty generic. But making it their own is something that seems to have come incredibly naturally to the youngsters.

Craig’s smooth, velvety vocal tone is one of the powers that makes the band’s tunes so easy to listen to. It’s akin to Ryan Potter’s of The Hunna, but with an Irish twang. There’s no forced grit or rasp, no trying to be something he’s not. Coupled with the selectively placed harmonies that grace the album, the powerful vocals are one thing that make it so great. It’s not overdone, they’re not trying to be the Beatles, but they’ve captured it with just the right essence and with some skilful production on their side, the vocals sound great.

The guitars, of course, aren’t half good either. Nor is the rhythm section. But it’s the actual song-writing that makes these lot stand out.

‘Big choruses that can’t be denied’ says Craig in one interview. He got it spot on there.

It’s hard to put your finger on who the band actually sound like. It’s almost like a mix of COIN and Sundara Karma, with a hint of their Irish counterparts Two Door Cinema Club thrown in for good measure.

They’ve just got a good balance of everything. It’s poppy. And while it doesn’t get cheesy like DNCE or Walk the Moon, it’s still got an irresistible groove to it – the kind that’ll still get festival crowds dancing in ten years’ time.

The LP starts with three tracks that more dedicated fans will already know, having been released as singles. Track two, Bear Claws, is the pick of the bunch, centred round a foot-stomping beat and a chorus that even the most sceptical of music fans will struggle to keep out of their head.

Bite My Tongue is a definite highlight. A summery, jangly number, the track, which clocks in at 3:26, showcases the upper reaches of Craig’s vocal chords as well as the intricate melodies of the carefully selected guitar licks, which are a welcome characteristic of most songs on the album.

The lyrics on Bite My Tongue, as well as the rest of the album, paint a nostalgic portrait of the naivety of youth. They’ll leave teens wallowing over relationships they never had and reflecting deeply on their years despite still being in the midst of it all. There’s no beating around the bush or trying to intricately hide a deeper meaning behind some pretentious metaphor in this record. Fitzgerald says it like it is and is refreshingly frank with his words.

Fake ID kicks off the second half of the album. It starts off relatively vanilla – a simple, ascending guitar riff isn’t going to get anybody excited. But it’s what the band do with such an uninspiring backbone that makes this song – and album – something better than average. That guitar riff is catapulted to the back of the grid for the rest of the song as a funky, layered dance beat is built around it, and born is a catchy indie-pop song that Walk The Moon would be proud of.

Probably the best thing about the album is that every song is almost as equally as listenable as the next. The band have mastered a trick that seems increasingly difficult for musicians these days, and managed to unselfishly balance out all their hooks and flavoursome guitar pieces across all ten tunes. Rather than all the best bits being thrown into one chart-storming single, each track has its own little bit of greatness that will keep the punters coming back for more.

Track 7, ‘Northern Boy’, is the album’s obligatory ballad. Originally released in 2015, this re-recorded version encapsulates the band’s Irish roots with a distinctive folk feel. It provides a break before the album swings back in with ‘Television’ and ‘Why Can’t We Be Friends’, the former a Circa-Waves-esque, steel-pan infused number. If you wished it was summer before, wait until you hear this one. The palm trees will be knocking at your door.

The album closes out on a romantic-slash-sombre note with ‘Girlfriends’. This one’s been expertly crafted, designed specifically for that late-night, end-of-the-festival-set moment, when the crowds put their arms around each other to belt out a slow one to the warmth of sundown.

It’s indie rock at its finest. And it’s authentic too, unlike a lot of bands these days. The Academic aren’t just in it for the fame. They’re in for the love of music and for the music lovers.

And yes, they’re expecting to be up there this summer. Reading and Leeds, Glastonbury – you name it. Now all that’s left to happen is for people to pick up on it. They’ve got six months to learn the words. Planning in advance? When you’ve got it like these guys have, you can do whatever you want.

8/10