Jaws - Be Slowly

Of the three major originators, that leaves Jaws; bruised, but not broken, as the champions of the mini-scene that never was/no longer is. At this weird state of flux for Birmingham's most contentious fad, Jaws hurl out their first full-length, Be Slowly.

JAWS, the Birmingham (obviously) four-piece, either via conscious routes, or pleasant accidents, manage to eschew the cafeteria-grade pap of neo-baggy and the rehashed gloop that pervades humdrum indie-rock. Instead, they dab a nostalgic frisson onto their noise: not just of late-'80s Manchester, but also of Seattle grunge, of dour greyscale post-punk, of dreamy pop splendour. There's the sense that the foursome don't exactly know what they're trying to achieve, with the variety of timbres, stylistic trends and head-nods, but the pray 'n' spray approach results in some pretty great tracks nonetheless.

The title track may well be the finest on Be Slowly. Robert Smith jangles flirt with faded vocal vignettes; it recalls the best moments on Swim Deep's hazy debut, while paying homage to the deliciously gothy melodrama of The Cure. “Home” is impressive. Jaws fling their blatant passion for Nirvana's “Come As You Are”/“Lithium” type hits at hulking abysses of PINS-lite energy. The Idles-brand aggression on “Gold” and Smashing Pumpkins-esque melee on “Filth” are both welcome jerks towards the right direction.

Their scattershot approach means that we don't see much of their own personality. Their curse of being lumped into the Digbeth-based pan-flash is probably of detriment, and if their links with Peace et al. were severed, perhaps we'd be looking at this in a different light – it's like they're trying to escape a label rather than doing what comes naturally. As it is, Be Slowly is an album that struggles to define Jaws as a band with many unique ideas or any tangible identity beyond their affinity for other artists. It has some top-notch tracks on it, but that's not always due to Jaws; it's more to do with the artists they reference.

For every stride that Jaws make towards greatness, they also teeter on the precipice of mediocrity. The spurts of originality – or at least apt reappropriation – are cut short by efforts like “Cameron” and “Swim”, which try as they might, just don't manage to possess the same impetus and poignancy. Vapid might be too strong a term, but it's in that ballpark.

Lacking Swim Deep's lavender-tinted adventures in fuzz, which although also not necessarily groundbreaking, at least was Swim Deep's, 2014 will have to make to with Jaws hit-and-miss debut. It doesn't say much that is essential to hear, but the occasions when they get darker, faster and grittier, it at least says something you'll want to hear.