The Rakes’ charm first time around was their ability to sing about twentysomething Londoners – and for those people to connect and bellow along in frantic fashion. On this return, they’re moving on from such simplicity, which isn’t to say this is a radical, or positive departure. As the ‘mature’ bug kicks in, they’ve been stricken by a fear of writing punchy crowd favourites like a ‘22 Grand Job’, and Alan Donohoe’s usually ace, nervy gabble falls flat against slick production. The poignant ‘Little Superstitions’ and ‘Leave The City And Come Home’, with their flashes of mid-’90s Blur, do provide some redemption, but it’s not the quite return we hoped for.
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