Send "Clinic " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Pitchfork |
 The last time we reviewed a new Clinic album, Nate Patrin suggested that you wouldn't get much more of a sense of the band's evolution by listening to their albums in chronological order than by putting their tracks in alphabetical order. I disagree. While it is true that Clinic have always sounded more or less the same, they have made a point of introducing new textures and affects with each new record. The group changes in gradual, largely superficial ways that may not be entirely perceptible unless you've been paying close attention all along. Take, for example, the way they have embraced the aesthetics of late-1960s psychedelia. Those elements are hardly present on their debut, Internal Wrangler, but have become central to their style since 2006's Visitations.Bubblegum, the band's sixth proper album, goes a few steps further in their ongoing exploration of vintage psychedelia. "I'm Aware", the opening track and lead single, signals a substantial change in approach, if not a drastic stylistic departure. The track begins with gently strummed acoustic guitar, and progresses to include lush strings, mellow coos, and an unusually clear and direct vocal performance by singer Ade Blackburn. Still, despite all these un-Clinic creative decisions, it still sounds exactly like the Clinic we've known for years. The melodies, the cadences, the rhythms, that distinct and vaguely creepy voice-- if you've heard a Clinic album, any Clinic album, you have heard this before. Though the group has consistently modified its approach to arranging its material, their songwriting has barely budged since 2002's Walking With Three. This doesn't mean they haven't written a great deal of excellent songs. Bubblegum, like the five albums and slew of singles that came before it, delivers several strong tunes. Blackburn and his bandmates have a way of getting the most out of the limited parameters they have set for themselves. The mellow, acoustic psychedelia and relatively hi-fi production values of Bubblegum lends its tracks a touch of novelty, but the songs that work best succeed on the same terms as anything else they've done over the past decade. Clinic are always going to excel when they go for hypnotic, swooning ballads like "Baby" and menacing garage rockers like "Orangutan", but they stumble a bit when they wander slightly beyond their comfort zone. The record's second half has too many soft, drifting acoustic numbers with pleasing textures but forgettable melodies. These slight missteps aren't enough to derail the album or distract from its high points, but they certainly drag on the momentum. The most exciting cuts revel in their newfound lushness. "I'm Aware" and "Milk & Honey" are sweet and airy; the title track sounds as though it is being presented in full saturated color in comparison to the stark black and white tonality implied by the band's earliest work....full text |
| Bbc |
| First things first, Bubblegum is a super title for Clinic’s sixth album. Second things second, the Miles Davis-esque artwork is equally fitting, for Bubblegum is one of Clinic’s most capricious recordings. Offering themselves up fully to the possibilities of pop music in its most open forms has enlivened a playfulness that was previously latent and, thank goodness, they’ve all but ditched the Philips Philicorda whine that grates on some of their earlier records. They are not as fierce or rasping as they once were in sound alone, but that makes for a rather relaxed sort of melodic chaos, equally informed by lounge-pop of the 60s and the garage rock they have referenced in the past. This is, for want a better of a better expression, a right old laugh of a record. Interestingly, a mutated Stereolab influence comes across at the album’s opening, with I’m Aware oozing a reclined but immediate charm. In fact, things get so gloopy that a gentle love song emerges in the shape of Baby which, in fairness, is quite lovely. This new, soupy fashion cannot last forever, though, and by the time we erupt into Lion Tamer Clinic have fully opened out and let the dark, distorted, rusty scuzz return, with brilliantly entertaining results. They even have time for a Jarvis Cocker-esque monologue on Radiostory which, with its murk and leaden pace, makes for an involving interlude. As it progresses, Bubblegum easily stands up alongside Clinic’s best work, though anyone with a desperate hankering for their most buzzing and evil guises (live shows often see them performing in trademark medical smocks for added character) might well be left wanting. Softness is an equal weapon to imposing, feral noise – for example, the yearning thud of Evelyn channels an emotional plainness that has been absent from their work until now....full text |
| Independent |
| Bubblegum marks something of a shift for the always inventive Clinic: with its reliance on acoustic guitars and understated accompaniments, it has more of a folksy approach, the pastoral obverse to their usual surging psych-rock grooves. With its shining strings and graceful, warm harmonies, the opener "I'm Aware" seems to exist in a campfire glow, as Ade Blackburn mumbles ominously, as if through clenched teeth, "In the dark, you're never done/ In the dark, you die for us". Only the occasional astringent guitar line or razoring shaft of electronic noise punctures the calm of psych-folk lullabies like "Linda", "Baby" and "Bubblegum" itself, in early Pink Floyd manner, while the harder fare is restricted to the restrained marimba motorik of "Evelyn" and the rumble of the feisty "Lion Tamer"....full text |
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