Pitchfork

A lot of British pop beaches itself on our shores, but it's rare to find the voice of the common English punk nerd. You don't hear much from bookish lads chatting in pubs about "anarcho-syndicalist" politics or crapping about how they never get laid. Such topics, of course, seem gloomy on the surface, but... if you sugarcoat them in some catchy pop/punk you get something pretty damn good, as proven by Newcastle-upon-Tyne's everyday rockers, Milky Wimpshake.

You can hear a little bit of Billy Bragg here, and a lot of punk, but I mostly get a serious vibe of Herman's Hermits doing "I'm Henry VIII I Am" to more spastic music. Pete Case's guitar is a gristly sandblast to the eardrums, buzzing over a keyed-up rhythm section, and the raw mix doesn't shave off the edges. It could sound like just so much noise except that these songs are catchy and their lyrics are witty. The hooks and jangle complement the distortion of "Scrabble" and "Philosophical Boxing Gloves," and the jerky strumming and haphazard squalls on "Dialling Tone" blanket a song that could be rehabbed (and ruined) as an American ska-rock hit. The band also uses harmonica, banjo and violin here and there, which adds just enough color, though the harmonium on "Philosophical Boxing Gloves" sounds a bit twee.

Case has a slim set of pipes, best displayed on the band's cover of Phil Ochs' "Do What I Have To," where he strains through the broad lines of the song. But he's adept with biting words and nimble melodies, and he shines on "Jackass," his protest against Home Secretary and fanatic prison-builder Jack Straw. Case also proves himself earnest and expressive as his songs jump from politics to love gone wrong, to his personal history, to an entire song about how etymology relates to the validity of ideas passed on to us by zzzzzzzzzzzz... er, right. Yeah, okay, so some of these topics are a bit absurd, and the songs are sometimes reachingly wordy, but Case generally makes them work. And the great cover of Spraydog's "Lemonade" puts him through lines that are more abstract and emotional, not allowing him to hunch behind his own wit.

Lovers Not Fighters at times makes me wish the band would tighten up a little more-- specifically, that Case would sharpen his own lyrics to show how clever he really is. His best lines are tight, witty and even silly: "This song has a verse but has no chorus/ The police are out in force and looking for us." On the other hand, he seems to have a rule that if he can't make a good rhyme in five minutes or less, he goes with whatever he has: "Your boyfriend seems so dull/ He was probably born in Hull."

Indeed, Case could definitely tighten the screws, but the lack of polish and these few awkward moments are probably what make the band work. Milky Wimpshake are smart, noisy, and this close to outrage, but they're too modest and good-natured to let it get in the way of a good time. And you've got to like a guy who can cut himself down like on the pro-cheating anthem "Dialling Tone": "Yeah, I know I'm your bit on the side/ But I hope one day you'll be all mine." If only the Gallaghers could be so humble.