On their second single Stag make a noise as lumbering and uninspired as their name, serving up some spectacularly cliched, dull, chugging rock music so reminiscent of post-"(What's The Story) Morning Glory?" Oasis that you'd suspect the dread hand of a Gallagher at the controls. It's an unpleasant surprise, then, to discover in the producer's chair Lenny Franchi, who helmed Delta's "Slippin' Out", still for me the high watermark of where British guitar bands have been this century. Really, just how little music must a person have heard before this wretched stuff even begins to sound impressive? On what planet are the inhabitants so open-minded and pure of heart that they can listen to lyrics such as "Don't try to stop us 'cos we know where we're going/There's no one to stand in our way/Come and join us 'cos the future is glowing" without cringing? The third song, "Waiting For Nothing To Happen", offers some respite, being an acoustic thing reminiscent of early Delta at their least inspired, decorated with some pleasant Beatley backwards guitar trickery. Otherwise, though, this is a painfully unentertaining experience.
