Clocks - All I Can

Clocks are a facsimile of a facsimile of a facsimile. I’m not sure whether they’re aware of this and, if they are, whether they care. They would probably take being described as The View minus all sharp edges as a great compliment. And no, I didn’t think The View had any sharp edges at all either, but you will after listening to All I Can.

Clocks are also, in all likelihood, going to be massive. Only for about the length of one advert break in whatever replaces Popworld, true, but massive nonetheless. This is classic ‘indie’ music-by-boardroom-executive-committee territory, and the only image that every oh-so-calculated chord change and harmonised chorus conjures up is one of a greasy fat man in an ill-fitting suit ripping £5 notes out of the hands of stupefied six-year-olds with sugar-glazed eyes.