The Verve

Before it veered into Britpop, the Verve was perhaps the most innovative British guitar band of the mid-’90s. It could smoke many an underachieving, snotty indie act on any stage, on any night, on any amount of drugs.

The band’s debut, A Storm in Heaven, drew from space-rock epics—Can, Spacemen 3 and Pink Floyd. Nick McCabe’s guitar soared over mountains of echo, while the rhythm section worked an almost dubby, jazzy valley. Prominently lipped singer Richard Ashcroft rappelled between the two, possessed by something otherworldly. On its next album, A Northern Soul, the Wigan quartet transitioned to more concise pop songs—finally stripping its tunes to radio-ready ballads on the classic Urban Hymns (of “Bitter Sweet Symphony” fame). But tensions between McCabe and emerging rock star Ashcroft nixed any next chapter—until now.

A trio of subsequent Ashcroft solo albums feebly reached for classic-rock mojo before the Verve struck a truce in 2007. With Forth, it makes a respectable re-entry into the arena scene, but there’s nothing like a hit on the record. It’s much more about McCabe recapturing the beauty of the band’s early, druggy flowering; to glean that, one need only scan the sleeve for song titles like “Noise Epic” and “Valium Skies.”

As a rock monolith, the Verve can still work magic: Tunes like “Judas” and “Sit and Wonder” have mammoth rhythms, and McCabe’s guitar mimics a roomful of synthesizers set on mind-meld. The reunion act does take some risks, as on the off-kilter, post-punk soul of “Columbo” and the baggy, loop-driven first single, “Love Is Noise.” On the whole, the comeback has a loose, improvised feel. But Ashcroft—ever in his flakey search for meaning—can’t find a place in the soaring songs to insert his grandiose themes. As usual, the heavier he tries to be, the more lightweight he comes across. Forth is the sound of a power struggle yet to be resolved.