Music abhors a vacuum. No musician in history has been able to escape comparisons to those who came before, ever since the first primitive percussionists were inspired by the sound a rock made when it was used to cave in an enemy's skull. The U.K.'s Kasabian are just as indebted to their influences as those early hominids, and maybe 19 percent as violent.
Of course, we've all advanced beyond those prehistoric times. Musicians now have many more tools at their disposal. Most of the violence that the average person sees is either on TV or in movies and is highly stylized. With Kasabian's self titled debut, the band seems to want to bring that same kind of style to the dance floor. Kasabian's slick bass lines and swaggering percussion are the very definition of Hollywood badass or international espionage.
Sergio Pizzorno's lyrics draw inspiration from crime dramas, the dissolution of relationships and World War II. While the band is lyrically preoccupied with some of the darker aspects of history and culture (the group is named for Charles Manson's getaway driver), Kasabian's music is strongly reminiscent of British stalwarts as the Rolling Stones, New Order, and the Stone Roses but also Krautrockers such as Neu! and Can.
The wide range of influences acting on Kasabian has worked well for the band in that its helped to distance them from the overcrowded pool of guitar pop bands in their home country. Heavily synth driven and dance floor friendly, Kasabian sounds like a darker, more experimental version of The Killers than they do anyone else in the current British scene.
The swaggering, cinematic tilt of Kasabian proves to be the source of both the album's charm and its greatest weakness. The punchy bass lines and percussion help to set the band apart from the more reserved, self-conscious groups springing up around them and the electronics that round off the edges of the tracks distinguish them from the British post-punk crowd. Likewise, Pizzorno's clamorous delivery adds a sense of immediacy and tension to the abstract menace of the lyrics (\The blood's not on my hands"" is disturbingly proximal to ""Just wanted you near me""), but the band only gets this formula right about half the time.
On tracks like the excellent ""Club Foot,"" ""Cutt Off"" and strongly Neu-inspired ""Reason is Treason,"" Kasabian manages to work in their electronic roots without sacrificing the gritty energy behind their music. Much of the rest of the album simply lacks the same impetus, coming off like an argument that just never escalates into the brawl you were waiting for. Blame it on overproduction.
Just like the manufactured violence in films is too stylized to be effective, Kasabian sounds like the soundtrack to a movie that lost most of it edge in the transfer from script to screen.
