The intro is touched by the gloved hand of Freddie Mercury, touched quite hard. The title track picks up that multi-tracked vocal baton and runs harder yet with it like an Olympic sponsorship deal hung in the air ahead of them. The spirit of musical theatre is alive and well and has bought itself AutoTune. "Carry On" is also about hanging about in bars, talking about their parents. "It Gets Better" is about someone being "bored": "It's hard to weigh a golden egg with everyone around." Privilege drips from it again. Rich kids in pop: we need rid.
Just when I think the self-mythology built on everything arriving exactly where they need it, "Why Am I The One" comes along and ratchets up my irritation. "My life's become as vapid as a night out in Los Angeles": I can believe that. The music limps along in the finest pop tradition. "All Alright" is sung from the perspective of a jaded party-boy who chickens have come home to roost and are shitting all over his buzz. More than a couple of tracks have applause on them, which suggests they have real approval issues.
"I'm standing in Brooklyn just waiting for something to happen/I can't help but think that everyone doesn't get it."
There are some really farty musical pieces that escaped from some mid-Eighties sports show to embed themselves in some Williamsburg loft appartment. "Stars" is another song about going out and missing his Mom. There's a child choir as well, which is the last refuge of the scoundrel - especially when AutoTune is involved. AutoTune histrionics even lesserer so.
Rating: Hipster out of Pointless