Moira Stewart Sweetness, Yes!
(Distraction)
Just as a carefully witty album cover can instantly endear one to a band, so – I have to confess – a name like Moira Stewart will break down part of my hardened, cynical, hack nature and engender a small nod of approval. It’s a start – my general starting point is the opposite of today’s accepted democracy. If you are new to me, then you are guilty (of being rubbish) until proven innocent. It’s like Guantanamo Idol. And Moira Stewart – having named themselves in honour of (for many years) what seemed like British television's only black face, and reputed romantic partner of Eastenders’ gravely-voiced hard woman Pat Butcher – come bursting out of North Shields purveying a day-glo indie-pop, and my instant reaction is a surprising affection towards them.
However, it doesn’t extend so far as to glory the album into the big time. It’s a fairly simple, unsubtle indie-pop record, with many of your typical zeitgeist affectations. At times, it feels like the band have read the expression ‘nu-rave’ in our beloved New Musical Express and interpreted it in the way they imagined it to be. So the result is less the artistic self-delusion of the Klaxons or New Young Pony Club, more the joyously dumb bin-lid pounding of the Infadels. There’s Popcorn-esque, bouncy synths, and fuzzed, compressed guitars. There’s some bewildering sound effects and samples that fall barely the right side of DJ’s Barney and Frew. There’s singalong chorus that sound approximately as up-to-date as The Farm.
There’s certainly a charm about Moira Stewart, and there’s certainly nothing offensive here. It’s a polished record, it’s fun and harmless, but there’s nothing here that’s going to change your life – or even scrape the superficial.