On their third album, English Graffiti, the Vaccines have redirected their ambitions. Since they emerged from west London in 2010, the four-piece have studiously avoided trying too hard with their blunted rock and disaffected lyrics that made frontman Justin Young’s internal life sound devoid of joy or rage. Their only aims appeared to be careerist ones along the lines of getting "indie back in the charts," based on the notion of the honest underdog vanquishing pop’s preening one percent. But at some point following 2012’s Come of Age, the Vaccines realized that they had fallen foul of a self-limiting attitude.
Newly enlightened, Young started praising the adventurousness of hip-hop and pop, and bravely opted out of valuable patronage after decrying the Who’s forthcoming Glastonbury headline slot as "a safe booking." They sought out Dave Fridmann along with former Haunted Graffiti member and Julia Holter collaborator Cole M. Greif-Neill to work on their third album, on which they attempted to "steer clear of a lot of the self-imposed rules that indie music implies," Icelandic bassist Árni Árnason said recently. Some of their fans were hesitant about the more tender, melancholy direction signalled on 2014’s stopgap Melody Calling EP, but to their credit, the Vaccines persevered with it (though they ditched an apparently wilder version that would have been "commercial suicide"). The result is their best record yet.
Part of its success is due to the fact that the Vaccines sound borderline-unrecognizable here, which is probably curmudgeonly praise. Where Young’s vocals used to thud like a fist through a wet paper bag, he’s now found a warm centerpoint somewhere between Chris Martin’s nice-boy croon and Damon Albarn’s rougher edges. The record’s zippy rock songs are its least inspired moments—"Dream Love" is a shadow of Arctic Monkeys’ AM swagger, and the synthy chorus to "Minimal Affection" rips off the Strokes circa Comedown Machine—but for the most part, it settles somewhere unusual, if not original. (For better or worse, their aspirations to sound like Sleater-Kinney circa The Woods aren’t evident.)
The run-up to English Graffiti was dogged by a quote Young gave to NME in January: "We wanted to make something that sounds amazing next year but terrible in 10 years!" The hyper-produced record has actually ended up somewhere in the mid-'80s, juxtaposing a surprising power-pop influence (the ripping "Give Me a Sign") with even more surprising shades of Arthur Russell’s curious, muted balladry ("Minimal Affection", "Denial"). Although the Vaccines discovered there was more to creative fulfillment than playing London’s 20,000-cap O2 Arena, in equally '80s fashion, they’ve written two yearning songs fit for stadiums anyway: the sinewy "Want U So Bad" and "Maybe I Could Hold You", which sits somewhere between Arctic Monkeys and Coldplay and feels appropriately comforting.