If you're of the opinion that the last thing music needs right now is another arty rock band with a penchant for jerky riffs, you'd do well to steer clear of The Maccabees. Although the London-born, Brighton-based quintet are named after a revolutionary Biblical Jewish liberation movement (Monty Python jokes to yourself, please), their brand of sharp, danceable indie is far from pioneering. That's not to say that it can't be enjoyable at times, though; and Orlando, Felix, Hugo, Rob and Rupert (believe it or not, their real names) make an admirable, if not entirely successful attempt at ploughing their own furrow through the saturated genre. Comparisons with Bloc Party are inevitable, as Maccabees share the same Gang Of Four-derived, angular sensibilities as the Londoners - as are comparisons with Maximo Park, whose witty repartee and lyrical themes of lovelorn isolation reciprocate those of Orlando Weeks' ('I noticed you, you stood out like a sore thumb / The most beautiful sore thumb I'd ever seen'). However, Weeks fails to deliver his lines with as much conviction as Kele Okereke, or with the same fiery passion as Paul Smith. There are some deniably great songs scattered around Colour It In - X-Ray, About Your Dress and O.A.V.I.P. all zip and soar in equal measures - while Latchmere, an ode to their local leisure centre in South London, is a whirling, even slightly grungey little gem, with clever lines like 'Came out of the changing rooms and absolutely nothing had changed' showcasing Weeks' potential as a songwriter. By the halfway point, though, interest has never really been consistently snared, and as a result, the unremarkable songs become completely banal. Already The Maccabees are dividing opinion left, right and centre; but in truth, this album is a disappointment from a band with a lot of potential, but without the know-how to fulfill it. Yet.
