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I used to wonder what The Charlatans' legacy would be. Of all the baggys, and despite their crossover success, I was concerned most of all for them. The Monday's had the Factory connection and a film made about their eccentricities. The Stone Roses transcended the whole damn thing by sheer force of will. Who would look to Burgess and Co for inspiration - would they disappear into the appendices of online rock almanacs in the Dark Web?

Funnily, I think Tim Burgess has - as much as any of his contemporaries - instructed the current generation of male indie songwriters. He has continued to work, and to influence. While Squire and Ryder have quietly faded into Rock Family Trees and celebrity TV, bands like Jaws have paid the lusciously-lipped frontman a special debt, in this case lyrically, tonally, and spiritually.

From 'Cameron' onwards, Be Slowly takes a very, very commercial interpretation of the lad-about-town baggy aesthetic (albeit with the more dance-y edges sliced off) and comes out as an industry friendly mock-up of past greats. The scent of Reebok Classics is overwhelming. At first glance, it's not a million miles distant to the most horrific moments of Hard Fi. That's unfair. No one can ever be that annoying again.

Single 'Swim' is a glossy Panini sticker album of a pop song, not entirely lacking in charm but far too neat for its own good. 'Home' is more hard edged, but with the same sleepy eyed vocals as everything else on the album. Occasionally a keyboard intro ('Surround You') points towards something approaching originality, but the sense that this is songwriting by committee is overwhelming. I don't like to pick on individual instruments, but the colossally simplistic Editors-esque guitar riffs, coated in lashings of cymbals, do no one any good.

Sad to say, Jaws have the sense of a gang of session musicians collected to back up a songwriting talent. The performances are all too scripted, the handclaps and tambourine and Cure-lite guitar riffing giving the sense that you're sitting through an approximation of a band, rather than a gang of mates with a common heritage and message. This could be hugely unfair - after all, there's nothing wrong with sounding professional. Problem is, this sounds at times like a band who want to be professional more than they want to be original.

The songwriting itself jumps between a few genre touchstones, hitting indie-dance on 'Think Too Much', poppy-indie-rock on 'Time' and just indie-indie-rock on the inconsequential 'Filth'. 'Be Slowly' pays so much respect to its forbears that it ends up sounding like a covers band estimating their way through a concept album called 'the sounds of indie 1991-95'. Nothing much sticks out, other than a campy nostalgia for an age when indie pop was still novel and there was a thick dividing line between this kind of guitar rock and the mainstream. These days, every man and his dog is knocking it out. Tim deserves more than this.

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