The Verve - Forth Review

Posted by Vanessa Willoughby on 08.28.2008

Eleven years after “Bittersweet Symphony” put them on the map, The Verve is back with a new album. But can they repeat the magic of their widely successful Urban Hymns? Or are they destined to remain a part of 90’s nostalgia?

The Verve exploded onto the scene in 1997, with the release of Urban Hymns. The band became an overnight sensation with the release of “Bitter Sweet Symphony.” Heard in television and movies such as Cruel Intentions, the song became the misanthrope’s anthem of the 90’s. Similar to contemporaries such as Oasis, the Stone Roses, and Blur, The Verve were noted for approaching both the pop and alternative genres with a flair that was entirely British. Their songs were infused with a certain retro, psychedelic sensibility, complete with dreamy lyrics and the vocal ferocity of Richard Ashcroft. Two years after climbing to the top, the band split. Now, eleven years after “Bitter Sweet Symphony” flooded the air waves, the band has reemerged with Forth. However, it’s been a rocky journey, encompassing all of the usual suspects of the rock and roll lifestyle. From drugs, to mental breakdowns, to fallouts, The Verve has survived all of the catastrophes, putting the past behind them and reuniting. But have The Verve learned from their mistakes? Is Forth an effective comeback album or is it proof that some wounds are just too deep to ignore?

Believe it or not, I can remember when I first heard “Bittersweet Symphony.” I was watching Cruel Intentions and the movie was just about to end. Ever so slowly, the opening notes began to play until finally, the camera focused on the last shot. Reese Witherspoon slipped on a pair of black Ray-Bans, hopped into her dead boyfriend’s Jaguar, and then drove down the California highway, wind whipping in her hair. And watching the credits roll, I thought, Holy shit! What a song! It was the perfect combination of a sweeping orchestral arrangement, an infectious chorus, and raspy, cigarette-induced vocals. The lyrics, however somber they appeared (It’s a bittersweet symphony/This life/You’re a slave to money/Then you die), were actually a powerhouse anthem quite appropriate for the 90’s music scene as a whole.

“Bitter Sweet Symphony” reached #12 on the U.S. charts, the band's highest position ever in the USA. The album reached the US Top 30, going platinum in the process. The band seemed to be going places but unfortunately, they broke up in 1999 due to creative differences and personal conflicts. I was bummed out, but I moved on. Thus, I was quite surprised and elated when I heard that they’d reunited.



Forth features ten new tracks, which heavily rely on The Verve’s signature mixture of the trippy psychedelic, and simple, soul-searching lyrical confessions. Unfortunately, for all of their sincere effort, the album contains just as many misses as it contains hits. After being out of the scene for so long, I think that The Verve made a wise decision to not stray too much from their original sound. Considering the way the market is now, The Verve had the potential to emerge out of the ashes and sound fresher than ever. Perhaps my expectations were set too high. But upon finishing the CD, I was disappointed. Forth doesn’t sound like the product of a band that’s been around the block, but a band that is hesitant, a little unsure, much too comfortable to stay in the limited range of past success. The flow of the album is uneven, as one consistent song will be followed by a lethargic, drawn-out jam session. Not to say that albums that stray into the instrumental are bad. However, it’s the execution that can make or break this type of musical arrangement on an album. For Forth, The Verve seems to spend too much time flexing their guitar skills rather than focusing on the actual production at hand. Songs that are meant to be memorable begin to wither after the first few bars, inducing a sense of inevitable apathy. The opening track, “Sit and Wonder,” begins with fuzzy guitar feedback, soon making way for Richard Ashcroft’s raspy yowls. But despite Ashcroft’s voice, the song itself lacks the sort of energy needed to kick start the album. There’s nothing that truly catches the listener’s ear, nothing about the lyrics or rhythmic arrangements that assert some kind of dominating musical presence. Unlike their past hits, such as “Bittersweet Symphony” or even “The Drugs Don’t Work,” the sound as a whole induces a comatose after affect. At nearly seven minutes long, the opener seems to stretch and stretch without any real direction. You keep listening, in hopes of something, anything about the composition that will grab your attention. But Ashcroft’s plea of “Lord/Give me the light” eventually fades into the background, accompanied by the flat hum of the guitars.

On the other hand, the second song, “Love is Noise” quickly acts as redemption. Upbeat, vibrant and infused with a danceable-rhythm, Ashcroft proclaims, “Love is noise/Love is pain/Love is this blues I’m singing again.” Although the lyrics by themselves aren’t anything groundbreaking or completely new, the song is an example of what The Verve can accomplish when at their best. They retain their psychedelic sway without going overboard, while Ashcroft’s voice adds a wholly modern touch. It’s the kind of song that you can play multiple times without losing interest or appreciation. And although it does have its instrumental breaks, it’s nothing like the lengthy blocks inserted in “Sit and Wonder.” It’s too bad that the rest of the album doesn’t follow the example of “Love is Noise.”

I want to be positive and show my support for The Verve. Honestly, I really do. But after listening to Forth more than once, I’m still greeted with the same disappointment. When The Verve is on, the results are hypnotically pleasant. But then there are some tracks that just cannot be redeemed. Take for example the song, “Numbness.” Certainly, they’ve been plenty of songs that deal with feeling emotionally vacant, of feeling numb. But this doesn’t mean that the song should set out to actually make you feel numb. Unfortunately, The Verve have succeeded in making a song that is just as anesthetic as a morphine drip. The same goes for “I See Houses,” the track that follows. In this song, Ashcroft’s voice works against him, as the already ethereal melody combined with his mellow voice produces something much more stagnant than melancholy.

Luckily, just when you think that the plane’s about to crash, the album then proceeds into the rare but saving track. This could be said for “Noise Epic,” which starts off in a contradiction to the title. Most of the song copies The Verve’s patented knack for surreal, molasses-like melodies and not quite polished vocal stylings. Clocking in at a little bit over eight minutes long, the song unexpectedly accelerates into a collision of sound. It’s like the dropping of a bomb; there’s the eerie still right before the explosion occurs. This is something that Forth needs more of; the spontaneous, the free for all, forays into controlled chaos.

I don’t know if the album was intended to be arranged like this, but it’s jarring to keep bouncing back and forth between such high-energy to low-energy. “Noise Epic” closes with Ashcroft singing, “Wake up/Wake up/Wake up.” The track is followed by “Valium Skies,” which, true to the title, is nothing more than a four minute distraction that could’ve been on an Oasis B-side EP. Maybe it’s due to the fact that Ashcroft is friends with Noel Gallagher, but as I kept listening to the song, I kept having to tell myself that this was The Verve and not something off (What’s The Story) Morning Glory. When the song ended, I had a sudden case of amnesia, as the lackluster effort made me completely forget what I’d just listened to.

The closing track, “Appalachian Strings,” is reminiscent of the emotional turmoil exhibited in “Bitter Sweet Symphony.” Ashcroft croons, “Took a step to the left/Took a step the right/And I saw myself/And it wasn’t quite right.” Steadily, the song is stripped down, until the listener is left with the echo of the guitars and the absence of Ashcroft’s soul-searching bewilderment. It’s a soothing end to an otherwise unsteady album.

The 411: If you’re looking for the comeback album of the year, don’t nominate Forth. As much as I like The Verve’s older work, I can’t say that this album lives up to the hype. There’s some gems scattered throughout the album, but they’re stuck between fields of coal. I wanted so badly to listen to Forth and be blown away, but instead, I just feel like I’ve taken too much aspirin. Although the album as a whole is far from horrible, I don’t think it’s going to attract stadiums of 40,000 fans, as in the old days. All in all, in the case of The Verve, effort alone is not enough.

Final Score:  6.5   [ Average ]