Guillemots (sometimes written gUiLLeMoTs) are an English avant-garde pop and indie rock band formed in November 2004 by Fyfe Dangerfield.
I lifted that from Wikipedia, by the way. Got to give credit where credit is due. But that's what you've got here on the Guillemtos' debut and Mercury-nominated album Through the Windowpane. Clue number one: "avant-garde pop." Clue number two: a leader named Fyfe Dangerfield. Clue number three: the phrase "dangerously fruity" (I said that). Clue number four: the double bassist was not only born on an island off the coast of Canada (not even really Canadian!), her name is Aristazabal Hawkes. I'm not even sure I spelled her name right, and I sure as hell can't be bothered to check.
Let me re-iterate the "Dangerously fruity" thing though. Seriously, this shit is dangerously fruity. Dangerously fruity, fantastically constructed orchestra-opera-pop that screams "epic".
And of course, that's a good thing. How can it not be? How can songs like "Made-Up Lovesong #43" be considered anything less than utterly glorious? Unless your soul is made of PVC and chain-smokes. And even then, it'd almost be tempted to come out of its darkened bedroom and dance a bit upon hearing "Trains to Brazil." It'd take a stronger man than I to resist the fairground stomp of the title track, as well as getting through "Little Bear" and the hovis-advert-tinged loss of "Redwings" without feeling just a tad unhappy.
Of course, the problem with things that scream "epic" is that they can so often fall victim to the curse of overextending. Known in layman's terms as "it goes a bit all over the place and gets a bit boring." Where Through the Windowpane falters is that for every few moments of inspiration you get one or two where the album simply lulls. "Come Away with Me" can be described in no uncertain terms as filler, and the last third of the album especially borders on laborious, suffering from a nasty case of a lack of focus. It's really a shame as it stalls what could have been an unforgettable musical experience that instead ends up as one that, whilst still memorable, isn't quite the party that it could have been.
Still, seriously though. Dangerously fruity.
