The bulk of Clinic’s fifth release “Do It!” is simply the updated version of its 2004 and 2006 albums, but maybe that is what is right about it. The art punk group from Liverpool has a trademark sound, obvious to listeners because of its consistency over the years, a consistency that could brand the band’s efforts as stale or trite if they were not so catchy and interesting.
While they maintain that somewhat fuzzy recording and peripatetic pacing that marks any Clinic album, gone are the days of the more atmospheric Clinic songs that lacked the punchiness they have come to adopt on both “Do It!” and 2006’s “Visitations.”
Case in point: “Memories,” the first track on “Do It!,” interrupts a merry little doorbell-esque harpsichord melody with an undeniably attractive thumping beat, leaving the other drivers on the road wondering why you are nodding your head so vigorously.
This juxtaposition of different textures is an enjoyable trick used in most Clinic songs, replacing the usual area where a more conventional band would put a chorus or bridge. Instead of building a typical song, Clinic confounds our expectations repeatedly, creating an enjoyable tension. For example, “Free Not Free” begins like “Memories,” but in reverse. A threatening rock intro with distorted guitar is quickly countered by a comparatively nonthreatening 1950s prom slow dance, spiked with a little tropical percussion. The guitar bursts back in a few times, a completely arbitrary addition that the song would not be the same without.
On a slightly larger scale, these different textures exist not just in songs individually, but also from song to song. All in a row, there is the aforementioned retro “Free Not Free,” next to a relentlessly paced “Shopping Bag,” which precedes “Corpus Christi,” a paradigmatically Clinic song that could easily sneak onto any of the band’s albums without seeming out of place.
Slightly unusual in this mix is the presence of acoustic guitar in “Tomorrow,” a White Stripes-ish romp that makes good use of that charismatic drumming which graces much of the album. Unusual also is the presence of vocalist Ade Blackburn’s lower jaw, which apparently can move after all, allowing for more discernible lyrics. In fact, Blackburn’s typical delivery, a lot like if (dare I say it?) Thom Yorke were singing without moving his teeth, is a bit more relaxed overall, maybe adding to an increased accessibility to the sound of “Do It!”
Given these comments, Clinic seems to have issued an interestingly diverse album, enjoyable despite its familiarity. But the final track of the album, the aptly named “Coda,” provides a turn that counters and complicates the previous tracks. True, it has the usual Clinic organ and fuzzy hint of intangibility from an unclear and dreamy trajectory. But then comes the ascending cooperation of drums and organs, a moment of emptiness, then bluesy electric guitar that is more dominant and magnetic than the previous Clinic standards. When this guitar goes atop whimsical harp and pleasingly out of place church bells, the rest of the album is easily forgotten, despite its various textures and charms.
“Coda,” like the rest of “Do It!,” is by no means revolutionary, but with it, Clinic shows a noteworthy digression that might be worth building upon. Unfortunately, this potential undermines the previous songs, which were by no means bad, but also by no means entirely new. Nevertheless, moments of transition and tensions of sound that confound the listeners’ expectations while maintaining the catchiest of catchy beats earn Clinic at least part of the exclamation point on the album cover.
““ Shelby Chambers
E-mail Chambers at schambers@media.ucla.edu.