<< Back To Press Dublin Event Guide: Whipping Boy (Third Album), April 2000 We all thought they'd left us for good, but that would have been too easy. So Whipping Boy decide, seemingly on a whim, to release their third album, nearly two years of complete inactivity after they recorded it. And we've never needed them so much. 1995's 'Heartworm' was a heartstopping collection of fiercesomely beautiful songs, overflowing with irresistible hooks, almost devilishly satisfying feedback, lashings of poetic darkness and sumptuous string arrangements. And 'Low Rent' (love the aura of sleazy glamour)is, surprisingly enough, much more of the same. It glides in on the back of the chiming guitars and sweeping strings of 'So Much For Love', with Fearghal documenting the sad, slow decay of a relationship. The contrast between 'Heartworm''s opener 'Twinkle' is hard to ignore: a tale of obsessive love ('She's the only one for me, now and always') as opposed to wry, sardonic, downbeat humour. Lyrically, the focus is less on Fearghal's inner demons, so we get ' Mutton' ripping it out of scumbag journos like myself, and ' Pat The Almighty' doing the same to the kid who's played The Music Centre and thinks he's a rock star, all topped off with their trademark blasts of whiplash guitar and scream along choruses. Then there's the witheringly sarcastic 'Puppets', which takes a look at the reality behind all the music biz back slapping ('Her agent's anorexic, great at giving head'). That a band that has gone through so much crap with the music industry can do this stuff without sounding self pitying or bitter but rabidly vital is an achievement. And the reason they can is very simple - they write great bloody songs. 'Fly' is a sublime ballad featuring Fearghal's aching falsetto intoning ' I'm gonna love ya, I want ya, I need ya'. It is possessed of an other-worldly beauty, only enhanced by the intense love that fuels the song's lyrics. 'Who Am I?' manages to vaguely rip off the melody of Wham's 'Last Christmas' while still being a heroic torch song of the highest order, and 'One To Call My Own' is 'Twinkle' with overpowering lust replaced by a romantic reverie - 'She's the breeze that blows my sails, she's the one that gives me shape'. Despite all the anti music biz polemic, this is a less intense album than it's predecessor. It would appear that our Fearghal may have fallen in love in the interim, with both 'Fly' and 'One To Call My Own' making overt references to finding someone who not only makes you happy, but makes you content. Thus, this album has no equivalent to the defiant, violent 'We Don't Need Nobody Else' and, to be perfectly honest, it doesn't need one. On the album's soaring final track, 'No Place To Go', Fearghal almost gleefully howls 'We've got no place to go from here! We've got no way of knowing!'. It sounds desperate and sad, but gloriously uplifting at the same time. That's Whipping Boy all over - they're in the gutter but they're undoubtedly staring straight at the stars. You would be advised to drag yourselves into their intoxicating underworld as soon as is humanly possible.