Monday, May 18

Øyvind Leonhardsen who? Say Hello To Accidents Never Happen

Accidents Never Happen ‘Accidents Never Happen’ (Dead Letter)

Accidents never happen. Hmm. What does that mean? That that bloke driving that big boat around in 1912 was really some monstrous assassin who determined that the best way to rub off 1,500 people would be to ram into an iceberg? That at the age of 24 and after two Oscar triumphs, James Dean figured enough was simply enough and decided to crash mind, body and soul-first into some other auto spinning along the Santa Barbara beltway? It’s doubtlessly a tough statement. The kind that could only be backed up by vigorous, tenacious post-rocking guitars, melodramatic At the Drive-In-branded ecstasy, and confessions about wanting to be James Dean (RIP) only gay. Good thing these Scouse-adopted Norwegians are blessed by such then, eh. Sometimes a little too-bizarro wordplay aside, Accidents Never Happen patently beam the ol’ much-needed pop nub lodged inside their punk’d up matter to actually turn some heads. They’ve self-titled this and all – a declaration in itself – proved further by the Arcade Fire less-God more-joined-up mellifluousness bawling out of ‘The Style You Like Is Going To Come Back As Gum’. Best track though is ‘Style Revisited’, where they’re either Trent Reznor bathing in the rain on Blackpool Leisure Beach one minute or Bloc Party gouging out the spirit of Mel Gibson the next. Dazzlingly wacko. “Thanks (Your name here)” cleverly offers the accompanying booklet. No Accidents Never Happen, thank you.

Accidents Never Happen MySpace