Nightlife Pet Shop Boys (Parlophone) HH

Sunday Herald, The, Oct 10, 1999 by Peter Ross

Like Chic and Abba, the Pet Shop Boys have never been taken as seriously as they should have been. Their second LP, Actually, is far better and more socially relevant than Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, but you never see it in any of those 100 Greatest Albums polls.

How tragic, then, that the Pet Shop Boys have muddied the waters of their legacy with Nightlife. This, their seventh studio album, is a slight work lacking the emotional punch of a Being Boring, the pop hook of It's A Sin, the knowing wit of Opportunities or the sheer life-affirming euphoria of Se A Vida E. This is a white flag of a record - defeated, lifeless, pallid.

Tennant and Lowe have worked with Scottish soundscaper Craig Armstrong and Rollo from Faithless on Nightlife, making for a curious balance between atmospheric strings and dancefloor-friendly trance. This does not, however, make up for a criminal lack of tunes. Sure, Tennant still sounds like he should be swishing around Old Compton Street with a long coat and a longer face, but where he and Lowe could once break your heart or raise your spirits with one chorus, Nightlife is numb.

The Only One is a decent attempt at their trademark electro tragedies, while Radiophonic is okay as homages to Kraftwerk go. For Your Own Good and Closer To Heaven, however, are just awful - camp, damp squibs that mistake energy for quality. And Kylie Minogue beams down from Planet Obsolete to add some ironic Antipodean perkiness to In Denial, a song that sounds like a choral Erasure but not as good.

Tennant and Lowe inevitably have a new look for a new album, but all the makeovers in the world can't hide the fact they simply don't care any more. Image is nothing, thirst is everything. The Pet Shop Boys sound well and truly quenched.

Peter Ross