The Moonlandingz – ‘No Rocket Required’ album review: messy, just not how you like it
THE SKINNY: In the eight years that have passed since The Moonlandingz’ debut studio album, Interplanetary Class Classics, frontman Lias Saoudi has put his name to so many other projects that you’d be forgiven for thinking he’d banished all designs to reprise his old funky lunar outfit. Forever looking to experiment with new ideas and diversions into genres that always feel far-flung from his last outing, it wouldn’t have been a surprise to learn that his pseudo-fictional band with Adrian Flanagan and Dean Honer would be a ‘one and done’ venture. No Rocket Required is both an unexpected and unprecedented return.
As ringleader of Fat White Family, member of Decius and occasional contributor to the works of Insecure Men and Warmduscher, Saoudi is a significant part of an incestuous cabal of projects that share members, with his own band Fat White Family arguably existing at the epicentre of this nebulous microcosm. Ever a transgressive and controversial figure, his erratic and varied output has always owed a large amount to his outwardly excessive lifestyle and provocative choice of subject matter conveyed in his songs.
The way in which The Moonlandingz has always arguably differed from his other projects is the utilisation of guest musicians and vocalists. The debut featured turns behind the mic from an unusual combination of notable names such as Yoko Ono, Rebecca Lucy Taylor (aka Self Esteem) and the Human League’s Phil Oakey, and on No Rocket Required, we’re treated to guest appearances from Iggy Pop, Nadine Shah, Jessica Winter and Ewen Bremner that all offer a unique flavour.
The thing is, while there’s good intention behind this desire to shake things up from track to track, the chaos that they’ve attempted to inject into the record almost feels calculated at times on account of the fact that they’ve desperately tried to get all of their disparate collaborators to sound as though they’ve been asked to fit in. The guests aren’t always able to express themselves in the same way as they would on their own material, and it’s evident from the mixed bag of features we’re presented with.
At the same time, the desire to shoehorn in so many guests to little avail means that the Saoudi-fronted tracks have to do extra legwork in order to salvage anything from the album, and when they flit between psych-rock, electro-punk and Dutch hardcore on a whim, the listener is left with little to latch onto as everything whizzes by in a blur. If Saoudi’s sermons were a touch more incisive and thought-provoking in their attempts to make the audience squirm, then there might be a little more to celebrate. As they are, with predictable subjects being skirted around, they’re pallid attempts at edgelordery.
It could have been a much more extravagant return for the trio, but a severe lack of direction is only able to suggest that the enthusiasm and effort put into the creation of the album doesn’t quite match the levels that go into Saoudi’s other projects. It might be revitalising for some groups to return after eight years of silence, but when virtually everyone forgot about their first outing, perhaps a more urgent comeback would have seen them put on a more impassioned display.
For fans of: All the other bands in the Fat White Family Extended Universe, homogenised to a point of indistinctness.
A concluding comment from a greengrocer, after looking at the album cover: “Ah, that’s why fig sales are down.”
No Rocket Required track by track:
Release Date: April 25th | Producer: Adrian Flanagan & Dean Honer | Label: Transgressive
‘Some People’s Music’: It’s a fun opener that is heavily indebted to the grooves of Talking Heads, and while the inclusion of Trainspotting star Ewen Bremner delivering a spoken word monologue that descends into a sweary diatribe might seem inspired, you can’t help but feel they pilfered the idea from Warmduscher’s intro track with Irvine Welsh. [3.5/5]
‘The Sign of A Man’: The first questionable stylistic u-turn takes place early, with Saoudi wheeling out a breathy vocal over the top of some hi-NRG synth lines. Some of the lyrics are humorous (“I can make a good coq au vin if you take out the bins” gave me a good chuckle, but you have to question whether this is the right style for the band. [3/5]
‘Roustabout’: With Nadine Shah on vocals, there is a whole lot of missed potential on this song to have much more of an impact, but the languid trip-hop instrumental doesn’t allow the South Shields star to reveal the full force of her presence. [2.5/5]
‘The Insects Have Been Shat On’: The vigour comes back, but the vocal phrasing feels like a carbon copy of the last two songs, and despite the motorik beats that underpin the track, there’s not a great deal to latch onto until the sax and guitar freakout halfway through. A slight upturn in quality, but not stirring much excitement. [3/5]
‘It’s Where I’m From’: Iggy Pop’s strained old man vocals are a perfect juxtaposition next to the easy listening vibe of the track. It feels like one of The Divine Comedy’s lighthearted crooners, but instead of being full of life, it sounds like it’s taken a load of quaaludes. Equally endearing and haunting, and a welcome change of pace compared to the other misguided genre shifts. [4/5]
‘All Out Of Pop’: We’re all out of pop – Iggy Pop, that is. A drab affair that doesn’t offer anything new or tangible to the flow of the record. [2/5]
‘Yama Yama’: Saoudi has ventured into the world of techno in the past with his Decius project, but this bizarre Middle Eastern-inspired dance track isn’t quite on par with any of their output. You can imagine that it would go wild in a live environment, but listening to it on headphones, there just isn’t the same magnetism. There’s also a synthesised melody reminiscent of a Brass Eye parody song that keeps cropping up, and I can’t shake that. [3/5]
‘Give Me More’: Another warped dance-punk floorfiller, which manages to balance the sleaziness with the fun factor. If the rest of the album managed to find this same balance, it might feel a little less egregious when the band choose to change things up drastically. [3.5/5]
‘Stink Foot’: Jessica Winter occupies the guest slot here, and while the 2000s pop aesthetic is meant to evoke thoughts of Kylie Minogue, it doesn’t pack the same campy charm that her music, or indeed Winter’s solo output does, and therefore is another example of missed potential until it turns into another rager towards the back end – all too brief. [3/5]
‘The Krack Drought Suite (Pts 1-3)’: If there’s one thing the album didn’t need, it’s a multi-part closer that fuses gabber, warbling autotune, and nonsensical lyrics about rebirth. There’s also someone yelling ‘crack drought’ repeatedly, as if we needed reminding drugs were involved in the creation. If it didn’t feel wildly out of place, this could’ve been a fine end to proceedings. In reality, it’s headache-inducing and executed inelegantly until the closing moments, which feel appropriately rapturous. [2.5/5]
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