The problem with ‘Weather Diaries’, early nineties indie group Ride’s first new material together in two decades, is that it only occasionally shines. yep, the record would’ve sounded better in 1991, But it’s now 2017 and we’ve had nearly thirty years of every puppy fringed 20 year-old and his slightly awkward best mate making this sort of stuff and, although this time it’s RIDE, it’s still a struggle to feel anything beyond mild excitement as the record plays along.
One gets the feeling the record wanted to return to old-school indie, innocent and much relative to the group when they were wet behind the ears. But you know they’re also capable of rocking out in an almost laddish, britpop style, And so somehow merging these two ideas is the job in hand, and things end up lost in between, neither here nor there. No-mans land.
From the kruatrcockian indie lite of opener Lannoy Point, through to the jaded– and regrettably left in– Floyd-esque White Sands we have a record that in between only occasionally hits the heights. These heights in question include the way the noise levels go up a notch during the final moments of the previously shimmering title track, Cali’s Pixies-like surf pedals and confident tone (even if they seem to give up on the chorus halfway through), or the ambient drone that takes up all of the most surprising track Integration Tape. Pity the editing manager phoned in sick the day Ride sent the LP off to the cutting rooms (no quips, please, about the occasional guitar piece phoned-in).