Album Review: Two Gallants - The Bloom And The Blight

Two Gallants have always been an intriguing idea; continually mining the depth of '70s heavy rock and adhering it with paisley psychedelic folk pop, striving to fuse the fierce with the whimsical. Fourth record, The Bloom And The Blight, has some incredible moments, but this juxtaposition that works so well for the likes of Black Mountain remains an irksome fit here.

Ball-tearing opening track Halcyon Days is a misnomer of sorts, with the San Franciscan duo seemingly intent on forging forth down more brutal, larynx-and-amp-exploding paths. But the contradiction that their previous albums have often stumbled over rear their ugly heads again almost straight away, with the folky Song Of Songs interspersed with stadium guitar that pierces the bubble with unnecessary bombast. My Love Won't Wait seems to get the elixir just right, but rather than distil that into the rest of the album, Broken Eyes meanders like the misguided Going To California drain that it is. Ride Away could be a rustic Knights Of Cydonia; Cradle Pyre couldn't be more forgettable if it tried.

This to-and-fro is a constant bugbear, because there are moments when the softness shines (Sunday Souvenirs) and the brittle balance is shattered in a cathartic rather than haphazard fashion (Winter's Youth). Two Gallants always teeter on the edge of offering something fresh and innovative, a fusion of folk and riff-heavy histrionics the likes we've never seen. Yet while tracks litter their oeuvre that stand the test of time (Las Cruces Jail is true lightning-in-a-bottle stuff), The Bloom And The Blight stands as yet another testament that they cannot maintain it for an entire album.