Rounding out this week's trio of posts is a trio of self-titled debut albums, courtesy of The Coral, Elastica and Franz Ferdinand.
If you've not yet seen the previous five posts in the Upon A Mouse series, then suffice to say that the starting point/inspiration is The 20 Greatest Eponymous Albums Of All Time series which ran throughout October over at No Badger Required.
In the NBR countdown, The Coral didn't make the Top 20; Elastica and Franz Ferdinand did, though lower than my submitted placings as a member of the NBR Musical Jury.
So, in reverse order, I present my picks at #15, #6 and #7.
I seem to start most of these posts with a confession that I was a belated fan / late adopter of said band, and so it is with The Coral.
The Coral formed in 1996, released their debut in 2002, and enjoyed several Top 40 singles in the UK, but this had largely passed me by. Instead, it was constantly finding 4th album The Invisible Invasion in record shop bargain bins that finally persuaded me to dive in.
The Invisible Invasion is a great album, but as I later discovered, the debut wasn’t exactly slim pickings either. The ballsy opening salvo of Spanish Main and I Remember When prove early on that The Coral weren’t just the sum of their influences.
A brace of singles follow, in Shadows Fall and Dreaming Of You, and I can understand the early comparisons with The Animals/Eric Burdon, and Ian Broudie's production (excuse the pun) echoes the likes of Echo & The Bunnymen and The Icicle Works. That said, The Coral established a singular identity from right from this album.
Other personal favourites on the album include Simon Diamond and Waiting For The Heartaches and, whilst The Invisible Invasion pips it for me album-wise, The Coral's first album stands up, two decades on.
The guitar... the bassline... the sound of drummer Justin Welch retching… the intro to Line Up is worth the price of admission alone.
Forget the accusations of plagiarism (well, unless you're legal representatives for The Stranglers and Wire), part of the appeal as a mid-20s fan was the familiarity of some of the riffs, as well as the interesting new musical shapes that Elastica made with them.
Justine Frischmann, Donna Matthews and Annie Holland were wonderfully moody, but listening to Elastica by Elastica again is a reminder of not just their effortless cool, but how tight the band were.
The four singles - Stutter, Line Up, Connection and Waking Up, the latter three all making the UK Top 20 - are brilliant, though not the album's only high points. Fifteen songs, just one going over the four minute mark, makes for an album that delivers variety and brevity that other acts would have been wise to follow.
I was a bored by the BritPop wave and many of the bands dragged along by it’s wake. Not Elastica, though. This album still has the power to kiss your lips whilst kicking you in the crotch.
Franz Ferdinand may draw deep from the well of post-punk and new wave, in terms of music, fashion and attitude, but frankly I didn’t care, Alex Kapranos and the gang were just what I needed in 2004, nearly a decade on from Elastica's debut.
It’s not one that I immediately think of as a perfect album, but I struggle to find fault with it either. Eleven great songs, wonderfully performed, recorded and sequenced, and all stand up to repeated listening.
Five singles may seem excessive, though it's hard to find fault with any of them. Take Me Out is their signature song, yet The Dark Of The Matinée with it's reference to Terry Wogan holds a special place in my heart.
Auf Achse and Michael are further standouts for me though there's not a single below par song on the entire album. I'd forgotten/didn't know that it won the Mercury Music Prize in 2004 and it's not a great surprise as Franz Ferdinand - the album and the band - still has the power to excite and delight in 2025.
Today's unexpected cover star is the late John Belushi in a scene from The Blues Brothers. 'Nuff said.
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