Miles Kane, sometimes known as one-half of The Last Shadow Puppets, somewhat publicly shamed (albeit unintentionally) a recently gender neutral Lana Del Rey when it was announced that he wouldn’t be using any of her other songwriting contributions to his latest record, Coup de Grace, other than “Loaded” (the best track of the album). His reasoning, as he so bluntly put it was, “I wanted the new album to be wild, very lively. Some of the songs I wrote were slow ballads–they were quite John Lennon-y. That includes other songs I wrote with Lana. I’m still proud of the songs, but they didn’t work for this album.”
Truth be told, they might have worked much better for the album than the final result, commencing, somewhat unfortunately, with a track entitled “Too Little Too Late.” “I try, but I can’t be what I’m not,” Kane needn’t remind us. For one of those things is some kind of modern solution to the absence of Oasis. With an uptempo guitar riff designed to get his listeners “in the spirit,” Kane demands that you give him something “for the guillotine”–decidedly fond of French words and phrases on this. Yet the only thing you want to offer to said guillotine is this digitally formatted offering.
In his best imitation of T. Rex (most especially “Bang A Gong [Get It On]”), Kane builds on the non-cohesion of the record with “Cry On My Guitar,” all drenched in an almost unnecessary amount of guitar (really, he ought to take a page from Alex Turner and incorporate a bit of fucking piano). And, in some unwitting deference to Arctic Monkeys, it seems Kane wanted to create his own version of “The Hellcat Spangled Shalalala” as he peppers the single with the lyric, “And everybody tells me that it’s/Shalalalala, oh yeah.”
While it’s certainly not a crime to be lacking in originality in one’s ideas, it’s a bit inane when a singer doesn’t at least rework those ideas slightly to make them his own (another reason why he might as well have taken on the more memorable iconography of Del Rey in songwriting form). The dated sounding “Cold Light of Day” comes across as a reject from a hole somewhere in the abyss of forgotten Britpop demos, with Kane trying his best to shriek, “I see it all in the night, I see it all of the time/(In the cold light of the day)/I feel it when I’m in love, I feel it when I’m alone.” What that feeling is, it would seem, is nothing–being that this is one of those social media “commentary” tracks ever so popular among male singers of late. His attempt at Drake’s “Emotionless” on Scorpion is equally as hollow as he laments, “Antisocial on the network/Feeling total disconnection.” Could it possibly be a feeling of total disconnection more complete that what one doesn’t experience in listening to this record?
“Killing the Joke,” a track that possesses an even more laidback rhythm than “Loaded,” is one of the few highlights of Coup de Grace, for Kane is undeniably at his best when he’s downbeat and morose. Accordingly, Kane rues his inability to be anything other than a quintessential Debbie Downer to those around him, leading him to conclude, “But I, I live a lonely life/Since you been gone I left the TV on/Let the milk go sour, let the bills pile up/But I, I know I’m a funny guy.” And, at times, Kane is even an adroit musician, too. This track is evidence of that. Sadly, it’s followed up with the song after which the album is named, an 80s-inspired number. But not the good part of the 80s in British music (Depeche Mode, New Order, etc.). More like the unwanted “rock” part–a bad imitation of Duran Duran, if you will.
British people should never be allowed to say anything in French, as Kane says coup de grace like “cootie grah.” And even if he is trying to make a play on words by doubling up on meaning (“Coup de grâce is properly pronounced in French as [kud ɡʁas]. In English it is often pronounced [ku də ɡɹa], which is the pronunciation of coup de gras, “blow of fat” in French.”), it doesn’t take away from how assaulting his pronunciation–in addition to the track itself–is on the ears.
Back to a more Arctic Monkeys uptempo beat again for “Silverscreen,” Kane makes another best attempt at carrying off a retro vibe–the subject of the title itself an antiquated concept at this point. Though it seems Kane wants to remake it into the version of the silverscreen that now appears on our computers and phones with the irritated assessment, “I can see the silverscreens/You won’t leave it alone/I don’t care what you mean/I don’t buy your next scene.” It appears as though Miles, like Lana Del Rey, is just an old soul at heart who would prefer to live in a bygone era of low-tech fare.
“Wrong Side of Life”–where Kane resides on this record–rejuvenates the mood with a stronger re-creation on his part of Oasis tones. Still, the sentiment behind it borders on the pathetic as opposed to the empathetically yearnful as he screams, “Whatever the situation, baby, I’ll be there on my knees/Oh, not getting enough, yeah.” Desperate much? Plus, coming from a man, it just doesn’t sound convincing anymore, as it would from the stylistic earnestness of, say, LDR.
Shifting back to a more frenetic measure with “Something to Rely On” Kane wails, “The making of a mystery, wishing on a falling star/I don’t want to let this sadness rule my heart.” Yet another lyric that doubles as a false justification for not letting Lana’s influence pervade the soul of his album, Kane persists in making one thing clear: his solo work isn’t “something to rely on.”
Alternating between fast and slow on each track, Kane’s excuse about Del Rey’s compositions not fitting in with the motif of the album simply don’t hold water. In point of fact, a few more “ballads” could have potentially salvaged the mid-life crisis (in its desire to sound “edgy”) sound of Coup de Grace.
“My French is bad,” Kane at least admits on the closing song, “Shavambacu” (apparently his way of saying “Je t’aime beaucoup”), amid another bathetic series of phrases that might have worked in “sincerity” if John Lennon (or Sean Lennon?) had been on the mic–for that’s the comparison Kane made to his work–but, alas, this is an album that is primarily ten tracks too long.
