Fur – When You Walk Away review

The idea of the one hit wonder seems so 20th century, but the same dynamics – and career damage – still apply in the streaming age. For instance one day Brighton quartet Fur were playing the now defunct local venue Sticky Mike’s Frog Bar, almost the next in relative terms they were being invited to play at exotic locations to crowds in the thousands.

The reason for all this was the low-key digital release of If You Know That I’m Lonely, a song with a distinctly early Beatles-esque ring which to date has clocked up streams in the tens of millions. Whilst cynics pointed to a Greta Van Fleet-esque gaming of the algorithm, the band to their credit were surprised enough to leave it four years before releasing a debut album.

Lots of that delay for the record was caused by the forced isolation of recent years, but if the pressure of expectation was a thing for them, it doesn’t show on When You Walk Away, which is a slick, if too often bland attempt to please all of the people all of the time. Wisely they leave the Fab Four homage to history and To Be Next To Her and She’s The Warmest Colour Of My Life are more than passable 90’s indie rock, but there’s too little grit in this oyster, a sugary overdose exemplified by the queasy What I Am.

You can read the full review here.