Paul Lappin has never shied away from the obvious 90’s, particularly Brit-pop influences, which weave their way through his music, but Broken Record is where it all gets a bit “meta.” Meta because if you are the sort of person who analyses such things too deeply, and apologies dear reader but I am that person, what you have is a more mature artist allowing his music to be inspired by and infused with sounds from 25 years previously just as that generation of music makers were looking back to the late 60’s for their touchstones. What does that all mean? I haven’t really thought that far ahead. Music is cyclical? We are all standing on the shoulders of giants? Look to the past as well as the future? Many a mickle makes a muckle? Maybe I’m over thinking this, its only rock and roll after all!
Yes, it might only be rock, and indeed roll, but I like it, like it, yes, I do. And so will you, there’s lots to love here. An understated, slow burning build, a hint of arabesque mystique mixed with baggy-swagger, a brooding vocal delivery, appropriate given it’s essentially a song about bailing out of a relationship which has run its course, and a groove which is so robust that you could easily insert a really clever analogy at this point.
Broken Record is a song with obvious music moods. It moves using power as easily as it does poise, it has moments of reflection and inner rage, builds out of intricate, decorative coils of guitar-work as well as explosive, power-chord, riff-a-rama and employs pulsing, bass driven, clear-headed cooling off periods to match the moments of belligerent knee-jerk emotion.
In fact there is so much pent up energy and emotional turmoil being welded throughout the song, when it finally ended I felt as if it was me, the listener, who had just stormed out of the relationship! I guess that is how damn authentic the whole thing is. Don’t worry, I’ll probably be okay after a lie down and a bit of a cry.
