Pitchfork

So it's been a long time since the whole Madchester thing. Back then, pretty much everyone had written off the Charlatans as also-rans-- their early offerings just didn't match up to the mighty Stone Roses or Happy Mondays. Thankfully for us, the Charlatans were undaunted by their own press, and by now they've outlived every other band of that all-but-forgotten early 90s movement. And anyone checking out the UK charts could tell you that they've definitely had the last laugh, despite the tragedies and calamities that have delayed them on their way into the vanguard of prominent UK rock acts.

It seems somewhat fitting that the band's seventh album, coming just over ten years after their debut, should find them re-exploring some of the dance-rock fusion that carried their first efforts. Their last album, 1999's Us & Us Only, found them more squarely in trad-rock territory than ever before, bathing in ominous analog synths and searching for answers. The change probably stemmed a great deal from the fact that it was the band's first album written in the wake of original keyboardist Rob Collins' death in a car accident.

Wonderland takes the sound of that last album and pumps it full of the energy that dripped from the band's previous releases, resulting in a record that can oddly be both fragile, danceable, and anthemic all at the same time. Let's put it this way: if this album had been released in 1992, it would almost certainly have been held up as a future classic. A decade later, it simply sounds damn good.

Perhaps the biggest difference in the band's sound on Wonderland is in Tim Burgess' voice. He adopts a previously unknown falsetto on several of the songs here, and though it's not as strong as his usual singing voice, it works surprisingly well in most places. Case in point is the first single, "Love Is the Key," a catchy R&B-influenced tune replete with female backing singers. Drummer John Brookes and bassist Martin Blunt drive the song hard, but it's Tony Rogers' funky organ comping and Rhodes lines that really elevate it. Rogers has done remarkably well for himself trying to fill Rob Collins' sizable shoes since joining the band, and here he continues to assert himself as the Charlatans' guiding musical force.

Nearly as obvious a choice for a single is "I Just Can't Get Over Losing You," which creeps in slowly before kicking into another one of the band's infectious grooves. Burgess exhorts you to get down, and it's pretty likely that you won't have any problem complying. Guitarist Mark Collins weaves dozens of little stuttering passages through the mix, vying with Rogers for control of the harmonic and countermelodic space. This is followed by the instrumental "The Bell and the Butterfly," a four-minute bass- and drum-dominated rave-up that opens with a bombastic, fuzzed-out bass riff, then completely recontextualizes the riff with programmed, almost junglist beats. Brookes joins the programmed percussion on his kit as Blunt briefly reprises the bassline from "Love Is the Key" before launching off on an impressive lead tangent.

Tracks like "The Bell and the Butterfly" are one of the reasons I love the Charlatans as much as I do. In an era when it's cool for rock bands to be ashamed of being rock bands, the Charlatans aren't. No matter how much programming they incorporate or how many other elements color their sound, they're a rock band at heart, unafraid to rock out just for the sake of it. And there's plenty of subtle programming to be found on Wonderland-- little artificial hi-hat flourishes color the edges of the beat in "And If I Fall," which just might contain one of the best choruses the band has ever written.

Elsewhere, "A Man Needs to Be Told" most closely resembles Us & Us Only's rootsy vibe, employing none other than Daniel Lanois on the pedal steel. It's amazing how well the faux-country sound suits the band. Burgess' falsetto feels more at home surrounded by the keening guitars and extra percussion (provided by Jim Keltner, who's played with absolutely everybody, including Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello, Ry Cooder, George Harrison, and John Lennon). "Wake Up" runs in a slightly similar vein, breaking into a melodic ballad after a guitar intro that you could pretty easily mistake for a mid-80s King Crimson track. Soon afterward, though, the guitar is dripping in Leslie and wah pedals. Burgess presides over the song with some uncharacteristically aggressive lyrics, including the catchy couplet, "Sayin' something, saying nothing/ You'll be a little quieter with a gun in your mouth."

This is followed by the mellotron- and piano-drenched "Is It in You?," which, for all its gripping atmosphere, is one of the few songs on the album that doesn't really hang onto your ear after grabbing it. The closing "Ballad of the Band" doesn't really do much to lift things, either, and the album unfortunately ends on a somewhat lackluster note.

Regardless of the ending, though, the Charlatans have managed to release yet another immensely satisfying album. The deft synthesis of all of the band's past incarnations speaks to the fact that their best work may indeed lie ahead of them. If you're looking for a starting place for the Charlatans, I'd probably recommend Tellin' Stories or Us & Us Only first, but Wonderland is a worthy entry from one of Britain's most underappreciated bands.