Cats And Cats And Cats – If I'd Had An Atlas

If one were to provide an infinite amount of monkeys with infinite instruments over an infinite amount of time, at some point those simians would play out Pet Sounds in its entirety. Of course during that time-frame there will also be extended periods where very little happens – other than mandolins being urinated upon or smaller monkeys being forced into tubas – but such is the nature of using probability theory to create art.

Whilst in actuality one would never propose using such an uncontrolled methodology to write, it does however highlight the issue of quality control. Sure, if you throw enough mud some of it will stick, but what do you do with all the stuff that failed to hit the target? It’s a problem that’s highlighted on folk rockers Cats and Cats and Cats debut album If I’d Had An Atlas.

There is no doubt that the Cats are a talented bunch, their previous split EP’s and contribution to the Pavement compilation album earlier this year highlights their boundless energy and exuberance. But here it feels very much as if they pressed record, started playing and then stopped the tape fifty minutes later. Songs amble off in the middle with no real direction, certain parts over-stay their welcome and it all feels the wrong side of ramshackle. There are periods of greatness – ‘The Boy With The Beak’ is brilliant – but more often than not any development is soon halted as the band meander off into parts unknown.

Despite all the frustrations that such a lack of control generates, the album does exude a really natural and human charm. During ‘If I Were A Wolf’ it all goes a bit school-play, but the urge to will them on like the proud parent can override the disappointment of the amateur dramatics.

If I’d Had An Atlas is a textbook example of squandered potential and opportunity. Yet the love for Cats and Cats and Cats themselves is not diminished as a result, the desire to see everything come right for them is as great, if not greater, than before.