Arctic Reviews

Kasabian are not content to die wandering. Not for them the acceptance of the entertainment industry's new commercial dynamics, brought about by technology's roughshod ride over copyright. Instead, the Leicester four piece have headed completely against the tide, working with former DJ Shadow producer Dan Nakamura and rejecting the worlds of both pop and indie rock. Full of typical hubris, the band may peripherally have been aware that the payoff which Empire lacked is now the expectation, and that there's little room for pulled punches this time. No pressure then.

Which brings us to that supposedly difficult third release. Not problematic however according to Pizzorno: "I think the album shows how beautiful we are as a band". West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum was preceded in late 2007 by the Fast Fuse EP, with both the title track and Thick as Thieves confirmed as being on the finished work. And for those fans troubled by some of Empire's nods to the psychedelic outpourings of Syd Barret, there was much more to get nervous about in this limited edition trailer. Fast Fuse itself was the more familiar sounding of the two, a pulsing stab of raw garage rock which wouldn't have sounded out of place in a Tarantino gangster-noir. But it was Thick As Thieves that marked the greater departure, a greco-Kinksian lullaby with the odd frisson of surf-rock thrown in. For Kasabian it seemed, the last train to predictability had already left the station.

Creative freedom and commercial success frequently travel in opposite directions, but this time the only plan it seems is that there is no plan. Opener Underdog at least bridges the gap between the "Club Foot" era and now; over a rumbling loop, Meighan spits his stream of blank verse - "Life in technicolour, sprayed on a wall" - whilst a raking lead guitar riff glows angrily. At the end, a strange micro synth concerto segues into "Where Did All The Love Go", which isn't the first song to bemoan the rise of street violence in Britain, but probably comes from one of the most unlikeliest sources.

At times it's a slo-mo reveal, as the weird krautrock interlude "Swarfiga" does little to create momentum, but slowly glimmers of inspiration transform themselves into comets, and it becomes undeniable; Kasabian's best career work is here. "Vlad The Impaler" is the grittiest of psychedelic funk workouts, sweating like Parliament tripping on the neat essence of the 13th Floor Elevators, Meighan's incantation "We are the last beatniks, the last heretics" sounding a little less ridiculous with every repeat. "West Ryder Silver Bullet" is even further from their roots, a duet with Hollywood Valkyrie Rosario Dawson, concocted from cinematic eastern harmonies, anything goes percussion and demented, circular waltz-like beats. And in the end they finally deliver on a legacy they've often laid claim to, but never before fulfilled, as on Fire they manage to sound like the Stones of the early-80's, part groove, part blues and all mass market thrills and greasy stadium rock excess. With Liam and Noel now estranged forever, the keys to the kingdom are Kasabian's for the taking.

More and more it seems, rock is rejecting pop on the grounds of it's superficiality. Kasabian have challenged their audience to make the leap of faith with them. And West Ryder Pauper Lunatic Asylum is worth that journey in the dark.