It would be fair to associate Bastille with a post-Radiohead vogue for epically overwrought indie rock – with songs that refashioned the genre’s traditional existential gloom into Day-Glo pop odysseys. They have always been at their best when leaning into frontman Dan Smith’s knack for towering infernos of sonic silliness (invariably topped off with the singer’s Chris Martin -pretending-to-be-Freddie Mercury vocals). But the heights of early hits such as 2013’s “Pompeii” feel depressingly distant on the group’s fifth album, which is a mostly solo undertaking recorded by Smith while his bandmates took time off after a heavy stint of touring.
Presented as a series of “stories” about historical figures of interest to Smith, & is mumbly, underwhelming and painfully earnest. In stripping away the trademark Bastille bombast, the goal was presumably to let the subtleties of Smith’s lyrics shine. Alas, it has the opposite effect, and exposes the more threadbare aspects of his songwriting.
Rooted in a semi-acoustic sound, the project staggers around in a daze, chock-full of campfire strumming and dad-facts, like Ed Sheeran presenting The Rest Is History podcast. The puny music has its equal in the underwhelming wordplay. “There ain’t no god up above/Just these hounds of love,” coos Smith on opener “Intros & Narrators” – a line presumably intended to sound deep and spiritual but which suggests the author needed to find a word that rhymed with “above�.
