The Greatest White Liar

Upon first listen, you might be mistaken to assume this album was released in the mid-sixties when in fact, it came out in 2005. Armstrong and his band jump out of the speakers like time-portal troubadours, leaving a trail of earnest sweat and lo-fi fuzz in their wake. The heir-apparent to the British invaders that came before him, he covers the bases with pitch-perfect versions of the white-boy blues, sophisticated pop finery and four-squared songcraft that put his forefathers on the map. I’ve never seen the band live--I don’t think they’ve even toured the states--but I bet it’d be awesome; ears ringing with remnants of the Kinks, Stones and Yardbirds smoldering on the scuffed stage. It is however, important to note that Nic Armstrong & The Thieves aren’t just shameless imitators or slaves to the past. Though they use blueprints that have already proved pleasing, their songs brim with energy and passion and, if not originality, then a dedicated commitment to garage rock revivalism. The guitars sound pure, like a pair of wild and unruly mods popping pills and egging each other on in an effort to prove their fearlessness while the drums are simple and discreet, bolstered by tasteful handclaps, tambourines and maracas. Armstrong’s voice is a versatile instrument as well, morphing easily and imparting a range of impressions; he can sound cutting and zealous on the rockers but light and bouncy on the ballads. Par example, “Mrs. Moraliser” and “Broken Mouth Blues” are stomping romps that showcase his raw howl, calling to mind a certain John Lennon. Conversely, “In Your Arms On My Mind” finds him whispering sweetly over a sleepy acoustic chord progression and rim taps while “Too Long For Her” is just the sweetest slice of English charm this side of the Mersey.

LISTEN TO FINISHING TOUCH and SHE CHANGES LIKE THE WEATHER