Pitchfork

For the men of Arab Strap, the concept of romance has always been a favorite joke. Over the course of their discography, Aidan Moffat and Malcolm Middleton have explored romance as an abstract notion constructed of the sordid lies people tell in order to pair off and-- as Aidan put it in one variation-- "go home and make a mess." On The Last Romance, their sixth proper studio album, Arab Strap present another song cycle detailing the craggy terrain that separates gloriously tawdry, dead-end sex from more lasting, mature (i.e. boring) relationships. But this time something wholly unexpected occurs, as the duo's notorious self-deprecating gloom here begins to lift, allowing the briefest rays of romantic comfort and satisfaction to flicker in the distance.

Throughout The Last Romance, Arab Strap's more familiar lyrical themes are thankfully bolstered by their boldest and most assured music to date, as they build confidently on the advances made on 2003's Monday at the Hug & Pint. Gone entirely are their once-frequent plunky drum machines, replaced by a skillfully balanced array of piano, strings, and horns. And though as a vocalist Moffat remains his curmudgeonly limited self, never before have his vocals been so thoughtfully integrated into Middleton's arrangements-- check the way his croon expertly mirrors the cello on "Confessions of a Big Brother"-- giving these performances an effortless, dyed-in-wool cohesion that their earlier pint-fuelled narratives sometimes lacked.

Over the years, Arab Strap have recorded an astonishing number of songs set in beds with dirty sheets, so the sleazy jolt of "Stink" opens The Last Romance in well-established territory, and with Moffat's customary disinterest in foreplay. "Strangers waking up in the Monday morning stink/ Of course I feel sick, but it's not why you think," he sings over formidably roiling guitars, postponing for a moment the album's newfound streak of tenderness. Equally uneasy are tracks like the propulsive "(If There's) No Hope For Us" and "Chat in Amsterdam, Winter 2003", a heartsick, drumless mutter which eventually opens out into impressively dissonant smears of guitar while Moffat glumly intones, "If we're having so much fun than how come I'm crying every Monday?/ Is it just to cancel out the laughter from Thursday 'til Sunday?"

It's on the aforementioned "Confessions of a Big Brother" that The Last Romance takes a deliberate turn, as Moffat begins to dole out the do-as-I-say-not-as-I've-done advice like a pub-bound St. Augustine: "Try and be a gentleman, always tell the truth/ I'm not just a hypocrite, I'm jealous of your youth." Evidently taking this solemn, introspective counsel to heart, the duo move promptly through some of the most warm-hearted material in their history, starting with the affectionate pillow talk of "Come Round and Love Me" ("It's on the tips of our tongues, but who'll be the first one to say it?") and the wry, pro-monogamy pummel of "Speed Date".

On the piano-driven "Dream Sequence", the album's lead single, Arab Strap-- to their everlasting chagrin, no doubt-- even approach something of Coldplay's atmospheric sweep, although Chris Martin has certainly never demonstrated Aidan's overall ability to use the word "fuck" with such invention. Later, as the raucous, album-closing "There Is No Ending", achieves a brassy, Pogues-like swell, Moffat comes to identify romance as a curious, but welcome form of surrender: "If you can love my growing gut, my rotten teeth and graying hair/ Then I can guarantee I'll do the same as long as you can bear." And though such optimistic sentiments might initially sound jarring to those familiar with Moffat's cultivated persona as the surly bard of hungover, carnal ennui, The Last Romance should stand as proof that a little sunlight might just do Arab Strap some good.