B+ Gomez are weird. Adrift in American iconography, the young Brits are about as far out of the Oasis/Prodigy loop as possible, dealing instead in a leisurely-paced slipshot brew that recalls everything from Calexico to Free to ... well, you could throw out names all day and not get to the bottom of this sound. Beck is an inevitable comparison due to Gomez' pairing of blues and beats, but the lo-fi, sampled aspect is just another bit of the whole.
Gutbucket acoustic guitars are Bring It On's only constant as bongwater vocals and synth bleeps pop up and then disappear again. There is a truly arresting presence, however, in singer Ben Ottewell (a bespectacled young man for whom the adjective "pasty" seems to have been invented) and his rough, unhinged wail. Belting out the stripped-down "Make No Sound," he sounds like there's a four-way rumble between Eddie Vedder, Tom Waits, Tim Buckley and a bear happening in his throat. To further befuddle the listener, Ottewell is only one of three Gomezes who take their turn at the mic.
The first few listens to Bring It On are fueled by curiosity and confusion; you just don't know what will happen next. Eventually, a clarity does present itself, and the groove of Gomez starts to recall the soul-ridden Brit rock of the early '70s. Tracks like the buoyant "Here Comes The Breeze" and the funk-honk "Love Is Better Than A Warm Trombone", and the gritty ballad "Free To Run" swing with organic, unhurried punch, and "Rie's Wagon" stretches out for nine minutes of badass fuzz drone.
And best of all, they did it in their basement.
--Lane Hewitt