The Shark (real name Olly Bailey) has been knocking about for a couple of years now, releasing a constant stream of both singles and EP’s, having more than enough material for an album much earlier than this, sadly none of which (especially the likes of ‘Demon Dream’ and ‘Andy Gray’) have made the cut to appear on this debut long-player. But it is this level of quality control has worked very much in his favour, with the only the very best of the best 10 tracks of his, informing this cohesive piece of work.
Opening with the thundering title track, hurtling drum beats and thrashy guitars, it sets out to sound sonically widescreen in order to set the scene of the record. The four already released singles follow, the pick of which is ‘California’, with it’s “California’s got the weather but it ain’t got me” catchy chorus.
Although essentially a solo project, the band that he has assembled for the record include Michael Sheils from Dinosaur Pile-Up on drums, and it’s the clean, fresh-sounding acrobatic drumming that’s the stand out feature of the faster tracks.
‘Got It Made’ and ‘Lately’ keeps up the ferocious opening salvo, fuzzy riffs and hooks, with the latter ending with Feeder-esque “ahhhh’s” and Bailey sounds like he’s having the time of his life, as well he should, surely that’s what debut albums are for. It takes a turn to the wildly cinematic with latest single ‘Last Train To Santa Fe,’ where he sees fit to conjure up his inner Morricone, with a lovely double tracked Western vocal, before erupting into a wall of noise.
The second half starts with the brooding ‘Rejoice Or Pray’, with its hints of Free All Angels-era Ash, with lovely orchestral flourishes which widen the musical palette on offer here even further and all in all, there’s a definite change of pace on a more reflective side two, the anthemic ‘Nothing Lasts’ evoking a Britpop style ballad, “nothing lasts forever, ain’t that the truth.”
‘Summer Puddle’ and ‘End Of An Era’ pick the pace back up, each with their own shouty singalong chorus, which is the unifying trait of the record, you get the impression each track has been thought about and pored over until polished into its final incarnation, which sounds obvious but is not always the case. Even better is the closer, ‘Just Popping Out Forever’, it is just gorgeous, the marching band drums shimmering against the twinkling, shimmering soundscape.
It’s a real melting pot of influences that you can pick out a bit of that here and a hint of something else out there without sounding fully like it’s aping any one thing in particular. It’s a timeless set of songs which feel like they could have come from any period between 1994 to 2024, the sign of a good record.
You get the impression that JTS would much rather be compared to Kurt Cobain rather than Ian Broudie, but it’s the latter’s safe hand on the pop sensibility tiller with a gift for a tune for the everyman that shines through all over this. A glorious debut.
