The Young RepublicBalletesqueReview

Album number two from The Young Republic comes hot on the heels of the summer’s Recession Special EP and sees the Tennessee six-piece surviving a change of drummer in late 2008.

Balletesque pirouettes with an almost nonchalant ease through shadow-cast, menace-edged tales of errant salesmen, bootleggers, preachers, outlaws and assorted misfits, all of whom are brought to flesh-and-blood life against a pointedly assembled backdrop of musical references.

Dotted with jazz-like details and classically-accented interludes – the overture-like Introduction; the operatic intensity of Tidal Wave; the razor-edged violin in The Alchemist – it’s an offering of Dickensian dimensions, richly populated, ripely moral and redolently delineated in Julian Saporiti’s lyrical, narrative-driven novellas-in-song.

As skilfully stitched together as 2008’s 12 Tales From Winter City, this new offering is no less smoothly executed although the edges are deliberately rougher – Rose Parade’s stabbing percussion and slicing guitar chords; the take-no-prisoners assault of the title track – and, in the deceptively languid Autumns in the Trees, also noticeably rawer.

Embracing old and new influences – from Dylan and late, Lennon-led Beatles to Pixies and Arcade Fire, with The Wolf conjuring up the sort of combustible commotion you might expect from The Raconteurs – The Young Republic’s subtle borrowings and hidden homages play out against a larger, intricately designed canvas that makes significant claims for a band whose time has come.