The Cribs 1 by Steve Gullick

Selling A Vibe review | The Cribs issue a stark reminder of Indie Sleaze’s staying power

Nearly two decades on from Men’s Needs, The Cribs return with Selling A Vibe, an album that cuts through scenes and surfaces to reconnect with urgency, class, and brotherhood.

by Elliot John |

It must have been the late 2000s. I remember sitting in an indie bar in Birmingham (that was called Indie Bar) with my mate John Jones. We were sat there legally, drinking illegally, as we were both underage and had been served two pints of pilsner after showing the barman our older brothers’ IDs. John was pontificating about music, as usual, and getting everything wrong, as usual.

We were arguing about what was better: rock and indie or hip-hop. I was Team Rock and Indie, him Team Hip-Hop. Jack’s musical journey in his later adolescent years were typical of a middle-class white boy in the mid- to late-2000s. He’d been one-shotted by the martial, uncompromising and unapologetic attraction of East and West Coast hip-hop. And, as the early- to mid-2000s indie sleaze era was now waning (we didn’t have a name for it back then), hip-hop seemed unstoppable, especially with the cultural spectre of America always coming back to dominate the charts.

But then something interesting happened that I’ll never forget. As we sipped on our third pint, likely well on our way to merriment, ‘Men’s Needs’ by The Cribs crashed into the room from the speakers around us, and almost instantly the mood changed. So did John’s. He sat up straight, closed his eyes, smiled, and shook his head. “What?!” I asked. He kept smiling then opened his eyes, “Nah, forget everything I just said – THIS is my music.”

That moment still feels instructive to me now, nearly two decades on. What Men’s Needs, Women’s Needs, Whatever did in that room was crystallise something I instinctively understood but could not yet articulate. When British indie worked, it took a hammer to posture and trend. Indie Sleaze, a term we only applied later, was never just about skinny jeans, cigarettes, or MySpace nihilism, at least not to me. At its best, it was about youthful urgency, class tension, regional identity, and the feeling that guitars might tip over at any second. If you get the chance do listen to the BBC’s The Rise and Fall of Indie Sleaze podcast series, which featured Ryan Jarman. It reminded me of how quickly that friction was packaged and sold back to us. I highly recommend you give it a listen. That crackling tension, between sincerity and surface, sits quietly at the heart of Selling A Vibe.

Selling A Vibe opens with ‘Dark Luck’, and I immediately felt reassured. It’s sharp, staccato, and uneasy, the sort of stop-and-start opener I want from The Cribs. I like how little it settles. The title track follows and, to my ears, feels a bit more pointed. I register it as a song about scenes, about aesthetics mistaken for meaning, and about the exhaustion that comes from seeing the same cycles repeat under new lighting.

Then there’s ‘A Point Too Hard To Make’, which I think is the album’s undeniable centrepiece. I’ve been playing it on repeat for weeks, and it’s barely left my head. When people say indie is dead, this is the sort of song I want to play them. It roars without sounding retro, reflective without collapsing into self-pity. I also love the video, which leans into a kind of 80s/90s Japanese television aesthetic that mirrors the song’s sense of emotional dislocation:

‘Summer Seizures’, one of the earlier singles, works well for me too. I hear a lot of weariness in it, about time passing and romance losing its sharpness, and I think the lyrics carry that quietly rather than hammering it home. ‘Looking For The Wrong Guy’ pulls the energy back significantly, and while it feels like a transition more than a statement, I still find it solid and sincere.

I’m more conflicted about ‘If Our Paths Never Crossed’. Musically, the verse flirts with atonality in a way that simply does not fully land for me, but lyrically it’s excellent. Lines about class, accent, and being half understood feel painfully familiar, and I keep coming back to them even when the song itself wobbles.

Later tracks like ‘Self-Respect’, ‘Rose Mist’, and ‘Distraction’ pass agreeably enough when one’s half tuned out, but I don’t think they hold up to close inspection. That said, I want to single out Ross Jarman’s drumming, which keeps the record buoyant.

Twins Gary and Ryan of The Cribs
Twins Gary and Ryan Jarman (@thecribs on X)

The album closes with ‘Brothers Won’t Break’. It’s a genuinely strong way to end, and knowing The Cribs are indeed a band of brothers, I find its lyrics quietly moving rather than indulgent. Selling A Vibe isn’t screaming about reinvention, and I am glad it is not. Instead, we hear a band that knows exactly who they are, and why that still matters to people like me.

Keep up to date with the best in UK music by following us on Instagram: @whynowworld and on Twitter/X: @whynowworld

Leave a Reply

More like this