Though it is perhaps Arab Strap's best and most interesting record yet, The Red Thread shows the limitations any artist will face when presenting a stance that seems destined for moral crisis ("And on the way over I swore to myself/ I'd fuck whoever I please"), but never achieves one. Lou Reed scored wonderfully with his song "Mad" ("I know I shouldn't a had someone else in our bed/ But I was so tired, so tired/ Who would think you'd find a bobby pin?") because the rights and wrongs of behavior were vividly layed out. In Arab Strap's case, Malcolm Middletown and Aidan Moffatt's vocals seem too deliberately sleepy to give weight to the desires -- to make a woman once more become part of the scenery, or to acquire "a world of opportunity" by completely dissolving a relationship -- and inevitable, if mild, consequences that drive their songs.
In a rewrite of a classic Animal House sequence, Arab Strap's songs would have the angel yawning as the devil yells for the frat kid to "fuck her". Such a stance would strip the scene of humor, or of any real human emotion, and that's the problem at the heart of Arab Strap's work. Their aims are to present a Jim Thompson-like world, where contentment ("At least we know we're fuckable/ At least we're sated and we're tired/ At least the bedroom stinks/ An we know we're desired") is cheap, and where the state of one's disinterest (always evoked by the band's vocals) determines one's "cool".
The one exception to this seems to be the smart and lyrically simple "Haunt Me" ("If she's all I need to love and breed/ Then haunt me/ 'Cause I know you'll keep me in tow"); besides being more verbally direct, the band's nonchalant sleep-sing cannot keep the soaring orchestration from bringing ample drama to the moment. The resignation and acceptance of love should be a fairly poignant moment, and gladly, it's not wasted here.
Musically speaking, one might object to the programmed drums on "Last Orders" and "Turbulence" -- songs about sex deserve organic instrumentation -- but the sound is otherwise sublime. Every instrument gets a moment to shine, with the guitars shifting in and out of the sheets that are washed in the songs, and Barry Burns' piano work lighting up "Amor Veneris" like a cigarette. Yes, then, Arab Strap are a terrific band, with possibilities that seem infinite. Still, I am certain that the songs on The Red Thread could have been better if the group had bypassed its trademark vocal style and actually played along with the lyrics, singing as if something in the lives of its characters were at stake. There is simply too much going on in these songs to have one leave The Red Thread, as I do, feeling empty of emotion, on a stranger's bed, wiping up some stranger's "million little me's" (sic).
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