Gloomy, atmospheric rock is the hallmark for bands such as Frightened Rabbit. The magnum opus revolves around pulsating rhythms and the darkness of Scott Hutchinson’s Scottish accent; it plays on atmospheres and is dedicated to be the sort that gives you those infamous tingles. Riddled with emotion and sincerity, the songs of their past vary preciously between those that utilise deeply engaging, thoughtful lyrics and those that fall short, bringing them into an unfortunate bracket of mundanity with unnecessary indulgent depression. It’s an exceptionally hard skill to master and Frightened Rabbit have often flitted between the sublime and a poor man’s Lighthouse Family. Painting of a Panic Attack sees the five-piece return for the first time in three years, demonstrating a new front for their self-loathing empathy; this time with The National’s Aaron Dessner tasked with the production. For a band that already strike so many comparisons to the Ohio group, it is arguably a questionable decision as to how much they want to draw from them.

The post-punk tension and anxiety of their earlier work, the likes of ‘The Greys’ and ‘Go Go Girls’ that stood closer to the tree of Wire is all but scrapped within the opening few tracks, extinguishing any chance they may pluck up from a previous sound. This suggests either a band that are maturing or a band that have simplified their sound due to the major label constraints that they now stand by. The despondency and languish that is held in opener, ‘Death Dream’ pulls about Hutchinson’s vocals in their finest and most careful fashion. Lyrically it evokes the image of death – a charming point of view for the opening track: “It was dawn and the kitchen light was still on / I stepped in, found the suicide asleep on the floor.” Do you want this as an opening track on the album? Well, its sentiment is strong and to be fair, it’s a brave move from Frightened Rabbit to put it so high up, the issue isn’t the subject but more that there is no real bite to it. Fortunately, ‘Get Out’ follows it – a much stronger return to form and arguably, a much better track to open with. It does everything ‘Death Dream’ should do. It has energy, soul and tempo to it, less reliant upon woozy atmospherics that carry the ambience of a graveyard at dusk on a cold winter day.

‘Woke Up Hurting’ follows the same vein as ‘Get Out’, this time juxtaposing the angst with the gloom. It has that Jekyll and Hyde feel that makes this music exciting, juxtaposing sharply the contrast between loud and quiet. Too much emphasis on atmospherics can make bands such as Frightened Rabbit fall a bit flat as every song becomes as dreary and washed out as the previous. Despite the fact it makes poignant references to hangovers and waking up hurting, it carries more energy than your average hangover would, regardless of how much Lucozade you emptied into your system the morning after.

The issue with Painting of a Panic Attack is its unfortunate focus upon lethargy and just too much emphasis on the doom and gloom of life. Rather than evoke emotion with this doom, it appears more as Dessner’s production has forced them into a position that somehow makes them sound exactly like a National cover band. The eerie guitar scrapes on ‘Little Drum’ outline the material that The National gave us on High Violet with ‘Bloodbuzz Ohio’; it’s no bad thing as the songs themselves are largely alright, but, they don’t offer anything new and to be sounding like a carbon copy of another band six albums in is a little juvenile.

It seems that musical progression on Painting of a Panic Attack is something that Frightened Rabbit seem to have somehow swerved. This isn’t to say the album misses good songs, the likes of ‘An Otherwise Disappointing Life’, ‘Break’ and ‘Wait ’Til The Morning’ carry a consistent chugging support to Hutchinson’s poetics. Each song carrying a whole bag of emotion and brooding notions that do exactly what they say on the tin, its elegant misery that stipulates Frightened Rabbit as an extremely secure band. By secure, I mean a band that have their sound nailed and perfected, whether this is for the sake of success or genuinely after Hutchinson has previously stated he is done with break-up songs, we’ll never know. However, for a fifteen-track album, it is long and the misery of the group just becomes a little mundane and nonchalant. You almost stop believing in it a little. It seems that the success that the band have reaped in the past, particularly off their 2013 effort, Pedestrian Verse, they have depended on that same style, ultimately playing it a little too safe.

The originality and true potential of Painting of a Panic Attack does not so much lie in the musical ability but rather in the power of Hutchinson’s words and these span from dark dreams to twisted relationship disasters or the power of alcohol. ‘I Wish I Was Sober’ outlines the instances that have forlorn many of us in life: “My love you should know / The best of me left hours ago so”; it is this relationship with the modern man that Hutchinson makes so powerfully. To relate to an audience is key and if Frightened Rabbit trip and stumble as they do with the music, at least the poetics can support the notion. Elsewhere the solipsistic siege mentality that is often built within the mind’s eye of relationships is toyed and tested with. It’s an image that is so appealing, a world away from issues, strife and ultimately care, it’s an image that Hutchinson can paint so fiercely and passionately:

“There is shit all over the street outside our house now
Junk fiends dance at the bus stop next to the rodeo clowns
Nowhere to run to so we hide like mislaid infants
Fuck these faceless homes and everyone who lives in them”

The issue is, is that lyrics often come secondary to first time listeners, the immediacy of the music doesn’t reflect the evocative images that are outlined in the lyrics so unfortunately, chances are they will be skipped over.

Essentially though with Painting of a Panic Attack, you are waiting for Frightened Rabbit to test the water a little more. You want a curveball from the misery or at least a substantial chorus, but it just never really comes and after 55 minutes, you just feel a little deflated and empty. The emotional trawl has never really materialised into anything but self-indulgent misery and the state it leaves you in afterwards is not really worth it. The lamenting melancholy that Painting of a Panic Attack puts forward isn’t new and although there are glimmers of hope throughout mainly in the lyrics – not in their theme but in the quality – on the whole musically it just falls a bit flat and uninspiring, it is one for fans but not for newbies.
Tom Churchill

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