After wheelie-ing their way into our affections with ‘Alright’ and other sparky singles, Supergrass flexed their monkey muscles with the second album, screeching back into public focus with the searing adrenaline buzz of Richard III’. On its release, it seemed as if there hadn’t been a tauter, more aggressive, more direct single in years. Maybe there hadn’t.
The record’s a bit of a shock for me at eight o’clock in the morning, but Junior had been warming up for a while and was ready for the standard rush on the coffee table. Not much coffee around – it’s become an ersatz library for her, and a place where she can rip up Heat magazine. Anyway, she shook her behind at the breakneck pace set by the ‘Grass and threw in some polite headbanging. It doesn’t outstay its welcome, so she rocked to the end.
Supergrass plough a more reflective furrow these days. You don’t get the same old rush with them, but the hairy little chimps are still up there with the best.