With a title more fitting of a throwaway track from The Libertines as they provide pauper-like cosplay, Kasabian sheds the interest of Pete Doherty and comes through with a hollow third record. Once more the band wears the Union Jack with disturbing pride for a group whose best efforts are a piece of faux counterculture. It is as though Tom Meighan and the gang had worn their obvious intentions out in the open for some time. Infiltrating the Cool Britania movement a decade after its agonising death, put down like Lenny in Of Mice and Men, the band perceive themselves as underdogs still. West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum is of the same cloth as shaky independent artists who are releasing their first record. But the difference between those without any backing, the grassroots experimentation and Kasabian, should be clear. Here they wear a prideful, vaguely hidden love for patriotism and expect us to believe topping the charts is the work of a hapless bunch of chancers.
It is this attitude which is taken up by the likes of The Libertines too and yet Kasabian has no personal interest in their music. Unlike the Doherty and Carl Barât pairing, their music is at least grounded in experiences beyond a love for the local and pints of Fosters. West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum remains afloat through opener Underdog, the track which never appeared on FIFA yet was assimilated into the sporting fans of the early 2010s. This is not a disparaging attack on those football fans but there is a defunct appeal to a cider-drinking, bucket hat-wearing group which Kasabian has conned. Their identical Oasis tones move influence into imitation like it was for the Gallagher brothers and their love of The Beatles. Kasabian was one stadium tour away from covering Live Forever. Nostalgia keeps Kasabian’s third record burning.
An album made for people who still say “darling” and “sonny,” as evidenced by the dire demonstrations of Where Did All the Love Go?. Industrious lads are Kasabian, who turn the leftovers of this second track into a piece of its own on Swarfiga. West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum has the same consistency and depth as frozen sausages. Leave no part of the pig unused, snout and all as Anthony Bourdain discovered in A Cook’s Tour. But the blends of spices, flavour or interesting instrumental tones are lost on Kasabian who plate up a direct and unflattering showcase of their plain sounds. Empty tracks are detailed only by a man wearing a polo shirt and clutching a plastic cup yelling “tune” while spreading their arms in the air. As hollow a gesture as the songs found on West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum.
Catchy instrumentals make up for the thick and lacklustre lyrical elements. Give Fast Fuse a listen, a piece which fails to mark the right tone of danceability, or explosive musical elements needed to give the band a new or interesting image. Instead, Kasabian remains indifferent and static. Take Aim has two songs built into it with neither of much interest. Like Band on the Run but if the band had scarpered from the studio before laying down the outline of a track. Another pathetic traipse through the spaghetti western-like cries in the background of Kasabian’s title track reaches their underwhelming conclusion and from there, little else occurs. Coasting through on the success of their extracted opener and the rest left to rot where it lay. At least there was a tonal vision from the band at this stage, which cannot be said for latest album, Happenings.
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