I’m going to start this review off by stating that I am a big fan of Faux Fox live. No matter how many times I have seen them over the last half-decade or so, and no matter what lineup I happen to be watching, a Faux Fox show has always been a dependably entertaining night out and about. There’s usually a decent sized crowd with some attractive people and someone you know in it, lead singer George Quartz will have assuredly put some time in to an “outfit” of some description (maybe thin moustache and a rayon shirt, maybe fringed suede boots and a ski jacket, and so on), and the band can always be counted on to give an edgy energetic performance that leaves you seriously wondering why they’ve never made much of a dent outside of their home turf.

With that being said, I’ve never had a great interest in listening to Faux Fox’ recorded work. Going back to their debut EP, 2004’s Black Glove Or White Glove, Faux Fox on record has been a rather sterile proposition almost completely devoid of what might be termed “Wow Factor.” Stripped of the charisma and charm that their onstage presence brings to the proceedings, their songs have generally come off as same-y and lackluster with the band’s obvious wit and emotion buried under icy drones of the C-grade Gary Numan variety. So, is All That Remains the album that turns it all around and finally captures the Faux Fox live lightning in a bottle that you can listen to in the shower? A little bit of “yes” and a whole lot of “no.”

With half of it’s eight tracks breaking the five minute mark, the album’s biggest problem reveals itself right out of the box with opening song, “Class Ring,” a fairly middling six minute track that could have been a great four minute song. Sure, those longish instrumental passages make for dynamic live moments when accompanied by Quartz’s dancing and crowd baiting, but on record they just stand as glaring lulls that had me reaching for the “Skip” button. It is a problem that crops up again and again on an album where good ideas are stretched beyond the limits of casual interest, allowing everything to sink into an easily ignored wall of background noise. Two saving graces do arrive as All That Remains enters it’s second half in the form of “Dirt City Rollers” and “Nothing Gold,” the former a muscular, hook-filled anthem that fully captures the visceral fun of Faux Fox in the flesh, and the latter a playfully brooding ode to lost glories whose dynamic sound fully justifies it’s six minute length (and whose motorcycle racing-themed video you should definitely check for on YouTube). These are followed by “Personal Best,” another gem of a song that has an odd hint of early Erasure-style melancholy until it disappointingly collapses under it’s own weight. Closer “Brass Ring” is the worst culprit in the “More Is Less” stakes, as it wanders through a repetitious eight and a half minutes of buried vocals and teases of heading somewhere epic until it abruptly cuts out and ends the album on it’s biggest “Huh” moment.

In the end, All That Remains may be Faux Fox’ most frustrating moment yet because there are flashes of how great they can be scattered throughout it’s forty-five minutes. You can see the traces of an amazing album in here, and I can’t help but think that with a bit of judicious fat trimming this just might have been their ticket out of The Golden Triangle. I’m sure it’ll all sound great at The Cavern, though. I’ll be there.

(2.5 out of 5)