So then, Who Killed The Zutons? Surely it couldn't be Stephen Street, the man at the production helm of Tired of Hanging Around, consistent bona fide genius (The Smiths, Blur, Kaiser Chiefs) and overseer who frequently squeezes the best out of his charges? Could it be that the initial success of a Mercury Award-nominated debut has blunted their quirky edge? Or perhaps they've simply run out of steam? Whatever the cause, Tired of Hanging Around is a prototype of how to make the displeasing, never mind difficult second album. Sorely lacking the ramshackle charm that made The Zutons's debut a mini-classic, not to mention the zany punch of tracks like Pressure Point, You Will You Won't or Don't Ever Think (Too Much), TOHA is a solid but soporific second outing. There are still vague hints of the eccentricity that was once abundant in their work - It's the Little Things We Do tells of talking sandwiches over a psychedelic Zombies-lite riff, and Oh Stacey (Look What You've Done) maintains a sunny Californian innocence despite its dour tale of a wasteful girl. Unfortunately, the turkeys far outnumber the treasures; Valerie is an embarrassingly predictable pop pastiche; You've Got A Friend In Me, a duet between sassy saxophonist Abi Harding and Dave McCabe is as flat as a perforated whoopee cushion; How Does It Feel? intimates a Coral b-side and I Know I'll Never Leave is a lazy, indolent closer. McCabe's husky warble, usually a force to be reckoned with, is grating and one-dimensional on too many occasions. The salvation, when it does materialise, comes in the form of the plentiful three and four-part harmonies, the underlying Merseybeat rhythms, the sporadic haphazard riffs, and in the energetic, semi-cacaphonous rumpus of lead single Why Won't You Give Me Your Love? It's still not enough to deliver the album from the swamp of mediocrity though; if this was a debut, it would be an insignificant one, but the Zutons have frustratingly already demonstrated the flair they're capable of. Who Killed The Zutons? I dunno, but someone, please call Poirot, Morse, Frost, anyone..
