The Temper Trap - Conditions

(Liberation)

Hype is a dangerous thing. It sets expectations, values fiction over fact and, more often than not, returns to bite its subject in the arse. Safest when borne from genuine word of mouth, it can turn poisonous when seeded by more constructed means. 

Such is Melbourne band The Temper Trap's predicament. In the lead up to the release of the long-delayed debut from the four piece (five piece on stage), we've had a blitzkrieg of advertising, expensive vinyl 12" promos, an unintentionally hilarious series of postcards emblazoned uber-importantly with the not-very-important-at-all lyrics from 'Sweet Disposition', and a hot stream of erstwhile radio commentators, hand-clasping reviewers and euthanised street press stories that reek of regurgitated press releases and ad space. All of which threatens to discredit any actual musical notes. Buzz. We puzzled about it then and still do now.

For any band - especially ones as earnest as the Temper Trap - this kind of fapping is intended to reflect the IMPORTANCE of it all. But when your intent is playing emotional, cinematic arena rock, such a blanket approach can backflip fatally, translating as disingenuous. 'Cause when genuine word of mouth and interest - as the Temper Trap have had through much of their short life in the public eye - are hijacked and squeezed to the point of cartoonish self-flagellation by a vein-popping marketing team, that kernel of spirit that dictates what a band is on about, is more often than not, crushed. Or at least ignored. Which is a shame. Chances are The Temper Trap would do just fine without the hubbub. Oh yeah, they play some music too. 

When the Temper Trap first started gigging around town in 2005, 2006 they were a spiky, indie-guitar band. Pretty quickly they gathered  management, bookers and a publishing deal, which led to the release of their first single 'My Sun', regular slots on the Laneway festival, V Festival, a lineup change and high-profile international support slots left right and centre. Despite this grooming. the band were largely unremarkable in the sea of similarly spiky indie bands bobbing in the wake of Bloc Party, Franz Ferdinand et al, save for the fairly amazing pipes and general presence of Indonesian-born lead singer Abby Rai Chrisna "Dougy" Mandagi. Dude can fuckin' sing. 

After a brief international push in 2007, during 2008 the band worked in Melbourne on the early stages of what would be their debut Conditions, before finishing up in the UK during March this year with UK producer Jim Abiss (Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian). Along the way they caught the attention of Korda Marshall, the founder of UK label Infectious Records (Ash, PWEI), who - having been dragged along to a Temper Trap show - was allegedly so taken with Mandagi's voice that he revived his dormant label (with financial help from Liberation/Mushroom's Michael Gudiniski) so as to sign the band for the UK. The band's resulting flagship album for Infectious (and Liberation in Australia) is a record that reaches for the stars but, ironically, whose successes are more firmly planted on the ground.

Opener 'Love Lost' is exactly one of these latter tunes. A disarming, immediately likeable, humble sway of a song; pulsing keyboards, handclaps and glittering guitars. There's a hint of Coldplay about it, but also something more sensible. Where Coldplay would've pushed this into the stratosphere, the Temper Trap let the song gurgle along on its merry way. Follow up 'Rest' is the nearly identical if more muscley twin to the opener, and establishes Mandagi's enjoyment of singing the word 'baby' as well as the faintly religious connotations running through many of the tracks (which would appear to be in keeping with the band liner notes and shout outs to Youth With A Mission). First single (and sports theme) 'Sweet Disposition' is maybe the first polarising moment on the record, in that if modernising arena rock is not your bag then there's not a whole lot for you laying in wait. If it is, buckle up.

Abiss' crisp production sheen is just what you'd expect from a label's "next big things" (and it flattens several moments that should've lifted off) but there's some low-key flourishes that make the album engaging. The scratchy acoustic guitar intro to 'Down River' (an album highlight, toting a collective narrative that erupts satisfyingly into Arcade Fire-esque counter melodies at the songs climax), the hissy organ of 'Fader' (a major chord single-act foot tapper), the gentle pulse, guitar sprinkles and easy falsetto of 'Fools', the synth plinks gurgling away under second single 'Science of Fear', and the general bright Fender guitar clang present on much of the record.

But when - as mentioned - The Temper Trap get overly serious, the album drags. 'Soldier On' is a 6 minute meander that feels like every second, erupting into predictable loudness for no perceivable reason. 'Science of Fear' suffers likewise, its pervasive tension and lack of hooks building to no release or reason. And the less said about instrumental closer (and live show low point) the jammy, bongo-ridden 'Drum Song', the better. Mandagi's lyrics don't especially help things. The guy may have one of the most versatile and individual voices in recent memory, but too often it's singing about the same ol' dislocated romantic tropes of our protaganist looking out for someone or something and being kinda hopeful about it but never actually saying who, what, when, where or why.

The Temper Trap have crafted an interesting, varied and solid album, if not the glorious epic that has been suggested. The difference between good and bad "epic" rock music is in the point of view; both narrative and execution. To mention our two supposed Temper Trap reference points - Arcade Fire's incendiary brand is a cheap gang yelling at the stars with their feet in the mud; willing on the journey ahead. Coldplay's is a fat Chris Martin already being in the stars, twirling clouds around his finger and telling poems to his crush; no journey needed. The Temper Trap fall softly - and safely - somewhere in between. But if they manage to survive this - the PR battle of their high-profile birth - unscathed, they may well find the grist missing from their mill.