On 180, Palma Violets overflowed with youthful enthusiasm that united even the most freewheeling and shambling moments. After two years on the road and scrapped recording sessions, some maturing was inevitable, but Palma Violets spend most of Danger in the Club trying to find more sophisticated ways of expressing their raffishness with the help of producer John Leckie, who helps them remain true to their spirit while pushing their boundaries. Doo wop-tinged backing vocals give "Walking Home" an extra bounce to its inebriated strut (yet this is one of Danger in the Club's most focused songs); "No Money Honey" shows that they can do haunting almost as well as rowdy; and "The Jacket Song" is the kind of ramshackle acoustic waltz that added a weary romance to the Libertines' music. Indeed, as Palma Violets attempt to broaden their scope, they sometimes sound more like their influences; songs like "English Tongue" and "Coming Over to My Place" reaffirm they're a band in the line of the Libs and the Clash, while the title track evokes the Bad Seeds and the Stranglers' doomy theatrics. Danger in the Club's most immediate tracks show that the band's strengths haven't changed much since 180. They rip into "Girl, You Couldn't Do Much Better on the Beach" and "Hollywood (I Got It)" with a fervor that rivals their debut, and the nimble way they handle the tempo shifts on "Secrets of America" and the Motown-esque bassline on "Gout! Gang! Go!" argue that the album's subtler innovations might be even better than the showy ones. ~ Heather Phares
Professional Reviews
Rolling Stone - 3 stars out of 5 -- "[T]hese guys' re-enactment of the soccer-yob side of Seventies punk and pub rock is plenty idealistic -- from the drunk-gang choruses to the Sixties garage-R&B mimicry to the splash-and-burn surf moves."
NME (Magazine) - "Palma Violets hold it together admirably, through rollicking journeys into the weird heart of America, dishevelled, Doherty-esque acoustic waltzes and the non-appearance of their beloved N14 bus, leaving them to traverse a lovelorn pub-rock gauntlet of indignity."
