Localized Saints

For far too long, Denver’s anglophiles have been reduced to sitting around Streets Of London nursing a Boddington's and reheating the great Oasis vs. Blur debate. But have no fear, local Britpop fans: Saints' latest self-titled EP should more than quell desires to feel the nostalgic glory of "Wonderwall." Though the band itself is a Colorado-grown commodity, Saints also includes Scottish imports Rob and Lewi Gault, who help root a UK style in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. The band’s five-song debut calls on Saints' refined old-world pop sensibilities to cut the sort of EP that’s as out of place in Denver’s music scene as a Cockney accent is at a Broncos game.

However, this oddity isn't a bad thing. Saints don’t dwell on the clichéd Britpop checkpoints, turning their backs on Parklife and Definitely Maybe to cultivate a mildly psychedelic slant that shows far more affinity for everything bookended by early-years Charlatans U.K. and Stone Roses. Guitarists Blaine Schult and Rob Gault aren’t afraid to reach for uplifting and majestic arrangements, probably because they’re so good at achieving them. “Here Again” takes off, propelled by Lewi's drums into a swirling mass of sweaty, paisley guitars that rekindles Manchester’s glory days without resting on early-'90s nostalgia. The mildly psychedelic guitars return on “Guiding Light,” but Lewi's rhythms punch through the haze with a confidence even Denver’s trashiest rockers should respect.

When the trio pushes its guitars—and subtle ties to Britpop’s glory days—into the background, it has mixed results. “Simple” shoots for low-grade atmosphere, calling on drones and sparse guitars to guide it through a rather directionless number. “Colorado,” a musical postcard sent back to the highlands, pays tribute to the Gaults’ adopted homeland, checking our natural wonders with a pastoral frankness learned from Clearlake and British Sea Power. Unfortunately, the syrupy keyboards and maudlin schmaltz smack more of Coldplay and their D-town counterparts The Fray.

Saints isn’t going to unseat any of the Britpop canon, but it’s at least a better use of anglophile resources than droning on and on about EastEnders and Torchwood, isn’t it?

A.V. Club Grade: B