With the name 22-20s gleaned from the Delta bluesman Skip James's piano-led "22-20 Blues" and the duotone sleeve art reminiscent of west coast jazz output back when record company executives literally tightened their belts with every release; (the too-high cost of a full colour print ironically turning the two-tone alternative into an iconic visual short hand for 50s black cool) it was pretty obvious that the eponymously titled 22-20s debut album wasn’t going to deliver the torrent of avant bubble and bleeb espoused by the likes of Kid606. But what of it?
As a British riposte to the White Stripes the 22-20s have been accused of ‘missing the boat on a grand scale’, whilst the NME tout them as delivering the Shock of The Old. Fact is, none of this is relevant. You want the new? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE NEW. Why else does Kerrang! Q, the NME, even Mojo, whup The Wire so completely in the circulation stakes? As to the Zeitgeist; pop music is variations on a theme so don’t tell me Razorlight et al are bringing anything new to the table. Question is what can you do with the tried and tired? Is this shit deviation or derivation?
The good news is ‘22-20s’ delivers quality throughout and some cracking tunes to boot. It ain’t Hendrix, but it ain’t bad.
Opening track ‘Devil In Me’ marries a hint of the relentless spartan grind of the likes of John Lee Hooker or Muddy Waters’ ‘Mannish Boy’ to the urgent Rhythm and Blues characteristic of early Stones. A few track in and it’s the heart of the record that thumps loudest. Fourth song and current single ’22 days’ has some pure Led Zep crunch to it. Guitar slinging and Hammond breaks are kept on an eye-for-the-mainstream tight leash that might upset traditionalists, but the album’s worth the spend on the basis of this monster alone. Acoustic neighbour ‘Friends’ rolls out like radio-friendly Dylan at the height of his powers and the scorching lyrics of ’Why Don’t You Do It For Me’ (You’re an hungry girl with a sweet tooth, baby it’s hard to keep up with you’) deliver a taut and urgent mantra over visceral backing.
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The Doors-esque and lengthy stoner rock of closing song ‘Hold On’ should have everyone mixing their whiskey with a little Lincolnshire spring water for a fair few months to come. But it’s the preamble to Trimble’s seething chorus ‘I don’t want to modernise, I don’t want to rearrange, I don’t want to fix-up, I don’t want to change’, which states the 22-20s case most clearly. When it’s this good, you don’t want for progress.
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