Ruen Brothers
Ten Paces
Yep Roc Records
2 June 2023
In their mid-teens, the Ruen Brothers would perform in Scunthorpe nightspots covering songs by The Everly Brothers. The next day they’d turn up for school with both boys still reeking of smoky public bars. Some years later, the location would be rather different, recording their debut album amid Malibu’s palm trees in the wizardly presence of Def Jam founder Rick Rubin. A stern taskmaster, Rubin urged the Brothers to rewrite, economise and push their vocal ranges.
Now on their third album, Ten Paces, all of Rubin’s sound advice has been bottled and fully consumed. An outstanding set of heart-on-sleeve tales, the record evokes a wild and mythic Old West, a place to where the Ruen Brothers instinctively and ritually return, a frontier enshrined in their hearts. But their time spent living in L.A. has lent a more hardboiled edge here, with Warren Zevon’s name flashing across the mind like a neon sign.
As for the album title, well, combatants are traditionally required to stride off ten paces before duelling. The only dust-ups here though are between Henry Stansall’s vocal trills and Rupert Stansall’s guitar frills. The former brings a real soulful swagger, like Presley on Broadway; the latter adds twangy reverb-heavy vibes, reminding us that a vast range of guitar tones also appealed to Ennio Morricone.
The shady seduction of Slow Draw lures you in first with its deadly gospel chorales. Yet not only do this album’s plush hooklines stick fast in the mind, but Henry’s rowdy operatics do likewise. His romantic rebel’s drawl conjures a mood of entrapment on The Fear, where three distinct choruses pile up, each more yearning than the last. Next, with a yip and a yodel, we’re off into the rallying Deadwood City cries of Hi-Yo.
A slew of whomping Motown beats drive the bittersweet Don’t Know What’s Come Over You, just as Silver To Gold gallops like a buffalo pony. Emotive howls on Bullet Blues build into yet another epic chorus, but all this seems like nothing beside the album’s two supreme tracks. First up, The Good Surely Die is a tortured twist on rockabilly balladry, its searing melody like a borrowed hymn tune made profane. Usurping even that comes dancefloor scorcher Free As The Birds, a madly catchy hoedown with lonesome canyon hollers and drums like pulsating hooves.
Only on the final two cuts do the Brothers slightly take their feet off the gas, compared to the darkly beautiful gems beforehand. Sleep rather slumbers as it seeks to smoulder, while the highway roller Long Road is more like a B-side with lofty ambitions. But it’s just a blip in the widescreen picture, a hero’s frailty in his final shoot-out. The true narrative of Ten Paces is filled with ‘Wanted’ posters, wagon trains, big-city angst, dreams and despair – all given life by these bold songs, tailor-made to seize the airwaves from Scunthorpe’s steel mills to Dakota’s dusty border.
Pre-order / pre-save the album here: https://ffm.to/tenpaces.