When The Vines first thundered onto the scene in 2002 with their much-lauded debut Highly Evolved, singer Craig Nicholls was catapulted into the fiery depths of international fame and portrayed as a slightly wacky - alright, mad - character who lived on McDonald's meals, constantly behaved erratically and often 'lost it' on stage. All well and good if it's merely a front for the press or a clever, if cynical marketing ploy; but Nicholls was no fabrication. The breakdown of the band on stage at what should have been a triumphant homecoming gig (Sydney, 2004) culminated in bassist Patrick Matthews walking; and the news that Nicholls had been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome led to the cessation of The Vines as a touring band. With such a dramatic past, Vision Valley, their third album, is very much a make or break outing; will they fade away permanently, a brilliant debut, a patchy second album and a plenitude of unrealised potential all that remains of their legacy? Or will they rise from the murky lagoon of troubled bands and make a decent go of recapturing the magic of Highly Evolved? Well, they've made a darn good effort with Vision Valley, anyway. The shortest of their albums yet - clocking in at just over half an hour - VV incorporates a satisfying balance between the straightforward wig-outs they've always excelled at, and melodic, harmonious ballads that decrease the pace when required. Nicholls' throaty rasp remains as engaging as ever - whether it be the angsty yelps demanded on wall-of-guitar effort Fuk Yeh, the Nirvana-influenced Gross Out or the warm garage riff of Candy Daze - or his gentle drone on Vision Valley, on the delightful slices of mellow summer pop (Take Me Back) or on the ironically radio-friendly Don't Listen To The Radio. Vision Valley is an album of mostly short, snappy blasts of energetic indie-rock which admittedly don't stray far from the tried-and-tested formula, but are incredibly likeable nonetheless. Something tells me that The Vines are the ripest they've been yet.
