If I think about standing in the middle of a packed, sweaty Wheatsheaf next Wednesday watching Rubber Duck at the Punt, I can imagine being enthused by their bright funk-rock, but they don’t shine on this recording. The little sample from Max Romeo & The Upsetters’ ‘Chase the Devil’ which opens the album shows they’re taking their inspiration from interesting places, the rhythm section is universally solid, and the eco-political message of many of the songs is admirable, but nothing pulls me into the music or forces me to listen to it again.
Rubber Duck are at their best when everything’s laid back, as on ‘Medication’, where they begin to tap into the bluesy hip-hop of G Love & Special Sauce, or on the wonderfully shambling ballad, ‘Angel’. Crucially, in these tracks the vocalist begins to relax a little and his voice shows its great natural potential; elsewhere, his delivery feels forced and ends up being much too nasal. The up-beat tracks are more of a mixed bag: on one hand, despite its title, ‘Emotional Revolution’ is a pretty stolid reggae-tinged lump, on the other, songs like ‘Pop’ and ‘Ocean Tide’ have a gleeful dynamism about them. ‘Ocean Tide’ in particular benefits from not having its momentum undermined too much by the incongruous use of seemingly random samples which are scattered throughout the album and only serve to defuse the mood. It’s not that they aren’t there, but somehow they don’t impinge as much as elsewhere.
In a sense, the album has too many different genres battling for space, from reggae through funk and bossa nova to straight-up pop-rock and electronica and the extremely polished presentation of the material somehow doesn’t help this meld, but sanitizes and dilutes what they’re trying to do. So, I have confidence that the slightly sloppier, rougher presentation that inevitably accompanies live performances will see Rubber Duck come into their own; this album, however, doesn’t stand out from the crowd.