I was prepared to relitigate my The Coral review, where the bands of Liverpool are cursed less by growing up in a city heavy with the legacy of the Beatles than they are by being surrounded by statues of Blue Meanies and Yellow Submarines. Even when they aim for grandeur, like yesterday's Echo and the Bunnymen, there is an element of quirky psychedelia, an in-built, inbred unseriousness. The Zutons are blighted by exactly the same, but, for them, I blame not only the place, but the time. Ian Broudie's far too clean, landfill indie production puts their limited imagination on show for everyone to see. It was the style at the time. Opening track, Zuton Fever, could fool any good faith listener into believing there was a decent post-punk band in there, if only they'd been allowed to record it on an 8-track in 1981. The simplistic saxophone bleating might not be up to James Chance and the Contortions, but it would sit perfectly well in the Popticians. However, the good faith burns through pretty quickly and the idea of the connection between their name and Zoot Horn Rollo becomes evidentally less aspirational than coincidental - like believing a certain world famous cellist took his stage name from Bunnymen album track The Yo Yo Man. 1 What can one say with justice about The Zutons? That they are the shit Coral? No, The Coral are the shit Coral. I don’t want to say anything much negative about The Zutons anyway, because I felt myself feeling a bit sorry for them listening today. Every time I listen to Sgt Pepper‘s I come away with this feeling that songwriting is easy, that infinite special things are just waiting to fall in one’s lap just for the sake of lifting a guitar and strumming a few chords. This Zutons album somehow made me feel that songwriting is very hard. It reminded me of being in a band (which I was around the same time the Zutons first appeared) struggling for ideas and for identity. It’s not easy being shit (usually) so I am glad The Zutons got a bit of luck when Amy Winehouse showed up and paid for their dinner; I wish them joy. I will never listen to this album again though - no more than I would listen to my old band‘s material ever again. No fucking way. 1/5