Supergrass — Life on Other Planets: a record bought for its sleeve, and a song I can't stop humming

Supergrass's Life on Other Planets (2002).

Entry nine of the From the Shelf series.

Look at that sleeve. Honestly, for this one, I think that's all the introduction it needs.

Bought for the sleeve

I'll be straight with you: I bought this one for the sleeve. And I think buying a record for its sleeve is a perfectly good thing.

Back in my vocational-school days, I had a habit of working along the racks at Disk Union in Shibuya. Not so much going in for a specific title as scanning the spines and covers end to end, and taking home whatever stopped my hand. This one was exactly that. I can't quite recall why my fingers landed here. They just stopped in front of the cover — and at the time, that was reason enough.

In those days I was up to my ears in music and band life. Day after day: listen, play, listen again. Maybe that's why I responded so readily to that feeling — the kind you get when, a few seconds in, you already know these four are good.

Four of them, like craftsmen

Life on Other Planets is Supergrass's fourth album. In sales terms it didn't make the splash the previous one did — it stalled at number nine on the UK chart. But to me it's a well-balanced record, full of who they are. If anything, with less riding on it, the band's raw ability comes straight through in the sound.

I'll confess: I'm a fan of the drummer, Danny Goffey. That Ringo Starr-ish swing and those tom rolls get me every time; the moment his drums start tumbling, I catch myself grinning. He doesn't push with a flurry of fills — he carries the song on timing and bounce. I think I've always loved players who hit that way.

The three up front each have a clear character: Gaz Coombes on vocals and guitar, Mick Quinn on bass, and Danny. And the keyboards of Gaz's older brother Rob Coombes are something this band's sound can't do without.

There's a nice story about Rob. He trained in astrophysics, and during the recording he'd bring a telescope into the studio, gazing at the planets between takes. The album title — Life on Other Planets — comes from exactly that. And it's from this fourth album that Rob became an official member. So the faintly cosmic feel hanging over the sleeve wasn't just for show. The fingers that bought it on sight, it turns out, hadn't got it wrong.

How to listen — track ten, "La Song"

Where the best of these four comes through most naturally, I think, is track ten — "La Song."

It was never a single, and not many people would name it first as the album's standout. But it's a happy little song you can't help humming. No grand turns, no loud statement. It just slips out of the corner of your mouth, and before you know it you're humming along. When a record has one song like that, it stays on the shelf for good. For me, Life on Other Planets was exactly that kind of record.

That said, this one also suits being played all the way through more than picked at track by track. Once "La Song" has you grinning, go back to the top and take a full lap of the four of them and their little habits.

Starts with the sleeve, ends in a hum

Back when I was steeped in band life, I was drawn less to flashy groups and more to quiet craftsmen like these four. The sleeve stops your hand; you press play and find yourself nodding at that same raw ability; and by the end you're humming "La Song." There's no dramatic story here. But every time I take it off the shelf, the version of me who used to work the racks at Disk Union comes back — humming along.

Next disc — undecided. I'll open the closet, see what catches my eye, and bring another one out.

Pick another one off the shelf

See Supergrass — Life on Other Planets on Amazon (JP)

That's entry nine of the From the Shelf series.