It is not the first time that Art Brut revisits its past. In 2013, they released a “best of” collection, Top of the Pops, named after both the 2004 song and the show they would never get the chance to perform on. For the casual Art Brut fan, there isn't much added value in these new releases. The first songs on both LP and CD reflect that Top of the Pops tracklist almost exactly, starting with “Formed a Band”, “My Little Brother” and “Emily Kane”. Instead, this compilation is both an introduction for potential new fans who were still in elementary school during the band's heyday, and a belated celebration for Art Brut obsessives, who will no doubt appreciate the frantic live recordings that are included here. At the time of its release, Argos was using Top of the Pops to prematurely anoint Art Brut a “CLASSIC ROCK BAND” (it was on the cover of the German Rolling rock, after all), and projected that their “Next phase is the HERITAGE ROCK BAND. See you in 10 years for a second volume.” It took a little longer, but Art Brut are back to cement their status: being a Heritage Rock Band usually requires leaving some kind of lasting physical legacy.
For the teeth-grinding musical star of Argos, discovering rock'n'roll was the first step in a futile quest – electric guitars ushered in a world of declining relevance and unfulfilled potential. But it was hard to tell how much of the band was an act. Was Freddy Feedback really their bassist's name? What about lead guitarist Chris Chinchilla? How serious was Argos when he sang “pop culture doesn't apply to me anymore” and how much was it a diversion from his own insecurities as a songwriter? These box sets suggest that both can be true: the sound of Art Brut at the height of their powers playing live, frantically running around the keyboard and drumkit at France's Eurockéennes festival in 2006. In that cover of “Bad Weekend” , Argos justified the anger as he implored his audience to write books and make movies: “You can't complain about it if you don't do something about it!” Without the band behind him, he seemed to say, he'd be just another guy whining about art after one too many lagers.
The strange confidence of Art Brut's debut, which seemed to demand critical success by sheer force of will, was not born in a vacuum. On these box sets, we hear Argos' journey into overcompensating arrogance: On an early version of “Formed a Band,” one of the many demo tapes on “Brutleg,” he sounds almost coy as he dryly explains, “And yeah, that's my singing voice — it's not irony, it's not rock 'n' roll.” All the pieces are there on the first take of “Modern Art” — guitars building like wildfire, wild screams echoing behind Argos as he screams, “The modern art makes me want to rock OUTSIDE!”—but he hadn't quite mastered the overbearing sneer he wields in the final version. The demos, while skippable to the average post-punk fan, are both humbling and humanizing, a crack in the assertive facade the band projected on album and live.
