Paul Lester Melody Maker, 29 June 1991

Two years ago I recommended Friends’ “Roads Leading Everywhere” to lovers of Pale Fountains and Sarah-style winsome jangly pop, hinting quite strongly that some of the heaviest and most profoundly moving records ever made have been played on spindly acoustic guitars by thin white middle-class undergraduates with fey, faraway voices.

But, after a few spins of “Songs Without Tears”, I don’t feel quite so generously disposed towards this Cleveland outfit. For one thing, in the (dazzling) light of the likes of Slowdive, these kind of mournful bedsit ruminations on the nature of existence sound rather bare without the now de rigueur sheet of snow-white noise. For another, “…Tears” rarely rivals, say, The Field Mice for sheer commitment to student union coffee bar ennui.

Simply, Friends just don’t seem depressed enough any more. In places (“Live For The Day”, “Side By Side”) they sound all jaunty and perky, which, as any expert knows, are the sort of tempos that would induce homicidal loathing in a priest. On “My Only Chance” Keith Peberdy decides to introduce a rockabilly bassline and things go seriously awry. And “Don’t Need It Any More” isn’t the only offender here to teeter on that dangerously skinny line between Teardrops blare and Inspirals screech.

The blue-mood strum and wispy-girly vocals of “Fadeaway” offer some recompense, but of course by now it’s too late and I’m reaching for the hammer. Friends? Bastards.