11 April 2013
‘Pompous’ is an easy reach here, I know, but it seems this track really is about being petrified in cataclysmic clouds of Vesuvian ash and lava as a metaphor for some vague romantic angst. Hang on now. Those unfortunate enough to be made statues by the neighbourhood volcano were most likely not at that moment thinking: “You know what this reminds me of? Getting dumped.” I’ve been to Pompeii and had the audio guide so I obviously am an expert here.
Meanwhile in Paris, a place on which I’m also an expert, a surprisingly large amount of tourists still schlep all the way over to Place de la Bastille only to discover to their chagrin that there’s no actual Bastille any more, let alone a Bastille-themed gift shop or interpretive centre. ‘Pompeii’ by Bastille is just as underwhelming. Instead of cataclysm and revolution, those ear-catching chants at the start give way to the disappointing realisation that polite yet overwrought English indie-folk arena pop—the Ed Sheeran/Coldplay mash-up of your dreams—is what you’re getting here. Chanty hook begets TV montage soundtrack side-hustle begets chart-topping status, is how I imagine this unfolded. What’s the opposite of nominative determinism?
