If one particular version of their origins is to be believed, The Chalets started out as a drunken pledge made between five festival-goers. Surprisingly for an idea forged in hazy days, the concept of The Chalets had the clarity and appeal to survive the morning after. Although their penchant for outlandish onstage costumes and their two-girl, two-boy up front formation might raise eyebrows amongst an all-too-often asexual indie scene, it won't stop the youth from having rude thoughts about their nurse outfits.
Perversions aside, the music is uncomplicated and brisk (women are rarely to be seen near prog records, like a musical burka), politely grabbing the attention with its enthusiasm and charm. The xylophone makes a fleeting appearance, as well as healthy splashes of kitsch synths, whippet-like guitars and some deceptively nifty drumming.
These gadabouts have the distinctly Irish knack of crafting melody that belies their simplicity. 'No Style' is as cheerful as pop gets whilst being cruelly self-deprecating; 'Gogo Don't Go' quivers and bounces like a misunderstood school recital; 'Fight Your Kids' garnishes its spooky, rhythmic stop-start piano riffery with tales of ASBO-bound juvenile miscreants.
True enough bands have sounded like this before. Such punk-glazed pop japery has been the bread and butter of many a pretentious, self-consciously arch record. What The Chalets do have in their favor is a lyrical warmth that engages as well as it amuses, like a good episode of Scrubs.
The hapless Casanovas trying to woo the ladies out of their skirts on opener 'Theme From Chalets' are uncomfortably familiar; the final verse of 'Beach Blanket' manages to steer its account of pissed abandon through the melancholy without approaching the maudlin; while 'Nightrocker' is a song sexy enough to make many a winky swell with glee.
Plenty of bands have ploughed the furrows of wry sentimentality, some have worked the fields of heartfelt humour and others have dirtied their knees harvesting 'sexy music'. The Chalets have a fair crack at all three and results are delicious and surprisingly nourishing. Like Belle and Sebastian with blowjobs.
James Harrison
