Typically I don’t normally care for socio-political jabs in rock n’ roll; the commentary almost always finds itself doing a literal moon walk straight into the sanctimonious tavern of raised eyebrows (a real venue = nope). In this instance however, the Tinfoils pull an evasive manoeuvre on the aforementioned metaphor by the injecting the lyrics with humour; they blow a raspberry on the prevalent media hysteria/sycophancy coating the supposed Royal Family without straying into the militant lunacy you’d expect from Lenin or Robespierre.
In terms of ear drum dissection; the guitar’s raw, contorted sound grips a garage quality and pulsates emotion without detrimentally grappling the limelight away from the other aspects of the structure, though the soloing towards the song’s end rightly protrudes out like a wackier alter ego of the vocals, as if trying in to vain to explain the stupidity of public figure worship. Delving further into the ear surgery; the bass practically hums the melody like a tenor singer whose nightly hard drinking has forced his timbre into temporary bass-baritone for the evening, all the while the drums keep the synchronicity in place like a strangely percussive, time-keeping bus driver keen to avoid a pay dock (authority figures = square).
Tying it all together, the bombast of the band’s sound was captured well, though having the pleasure of seeing the single live prior to the studio reviewing gives me a slightly unfair preference for the live setting; however since it will no doubt act as a precursor to newer fans who haven’t yet witnessed them in the flesh, coupled with the school of thought that musicians should always aspire to perfect themselves on the stage, its more or less mission accomplished for this sonic triangle.
Tinfoils – Royal Baby Machine: Out 1st March 2019