Kaiser Chiefs
Yours Truly, Angry Mob
(b-Unique)
***

Of the rash of guitar bands that followed in the wake of the trailblazing Franz Ferdinand at the end of 2004, Leeds lads Kaiser Chiefs were held to be the least likely to succeed.

Instead, all eyes were focused on Bloc Party, Futureheads and Maximo Park with their slightly artier take on rock 'n' roll.

Bloc Party have just released a so-so second album, Maximo Park return in the spring and Futureheads have been dropped by their label after their tedious second effort.

The Kaisers, meanwhile, are about to release the follow-up to a debut album that sold three million copies. Stitch that, art school boys.

Yet the Kaiser Chiefs' ascendancy to the top tier of British rock shouldn't have been such a huge surprise.

The British public has always been rather partial to - for want of a better word - personality bands. And thanks to singer Ricky Wilson, that's what the Kaisers are.

I remember following the NME new bands tour around the north a couple of years ago. One evening I wandered into the crowded dressing room to find this funny chap holding court.

He was smart, witty and generous, even though his band were bottom of the bill. He was Ricky Wilson and I was charmed.

Unfortunately, this eagerness to please often overwhelmed their debut album, Employment, which dabbled in some pretty ill-judged wackiness.

Not that the public cared: they loved it, spinning bowties and all. Still, it seems some of the novelty jibes hurt because the band has been taking every opportunity to emphasise that Yours Truly, Angry Mob is a much more serious record.

Don't panic - the band hasn't turned into Joy Division, or even Coldplay. There's still an indelible trace of playfulness streaked through the tunes.

Lead single Ruby is fairly representative but the album really takes off with The Angry Mob, a rollicking, acerbic broadside at tabloid readers (there's a surprising whiff of snobbery about the Kaisers) and Heat Dies Down, another full-on pop charge, which bleeds into the hyperactive but tuneless Highroyds.

It's a breathless start, which makes the rather lovely Love's Not A Competition (But I'm Winning) a welcome respite.

Then there's the album highlight I Can Do Without You, an almost bucolic acoustic REM-ish pop song that proves the Kaisers sound at their best when the pedal is off the metal.

That impression is reinforced by The Beautiful South stylings of the pithy Boxing Champ. Still, the Kaisers are not yet pushing the boundaries of greatness due to the inelegance and lack of invention of some of the music here.

My Kind Of Guy is wretched, lumpen and predictable, for example, while many of the songs' verses have a very similar melodic pattern. The Kaisers are good, of that there is no doubt. But great? No, not yet.