Half-Told Tales

A funny thing happened to Arab Strap between their initial 1996-2005 phase and their 2020s renaissance: The most dour and depressing band in UK indie reemerged as its most feisty and agitated. Always a keen observer of our worst impulses, lead singer/storyteller Aidan Moffat has found fresh lyrical inspiration and ire in a contemporary cultural landscape beset by the manosphere, anti-vax conspiracy theorists and techno-fascists. And the fun—if we can call it that—continues on Arab Strap’s third post-reunion album, <i>Half-Told Tales</i>, which sets Moffat’s signature half-spoken/half-sung narratives to an evermore boisterous backdrop of sax-blasted post-punk (<b>“I Get Noise”</b>) and driving post-industrial workouts (the looksmaxxing piss-take <b>“Glamour Magick”</b>) that make it easier to imagine an alternate ’90s where these Scottish sad sacks became alt-rock radio stars. But while Moffat remains a master at painting vivid portraits of middle-aged malaise in single couplet, he can also find the hope and humanity in the bleakest scenarios: <b>“You You You”</b> may find him in a familiarly forlorn state (“I’ve got a hole in my shoe that lets in rain/And another new lump in another vein”), however, those self-deprecating slags tee up a sincere synth-pop devotional dedicated to the partner who stands by her man despite his failings. <b>Our Favourite Lyric:</b> “I’ve had facials with cat litter, gold-plate and semen/Cryotherapy’s cold, but it keeps my skin gleaming/It takes years off me” (“Glamour Magick”).