Suavity’s Mouthpiece ‘I call it madness but you call it love’ (Love Torture / End of Music). Talk of co-incidences, a week or so ago we got a heads up from the hugely talented and – well – lets be honest bonkers and fried Suavity’s Mouthpiece, a name that may ring a bell among some of you seeing as how we praised from the rafters his most adorable albeit ’bonkers and fried’ ‘the audial equivalent of John Wilkes’ set for the Love Torture imprint a little while back. The email referring to a follow up ‘extended play’ to said release entitled ‘ I call it madness you call it love’ – again through Love Torture and End of Music. Well this week we were much charmed and indeed delighted at the appearance through our door of a small but beautifully packaged mailer from – you guessed it – Love Torture stuffed full of goodies – alas not the Suavity‘s Mouthpiece release but treats galore from among others – Internal Improv who feature label head honcho David – and of which it should be said at this this juncture is a damn fine outing from what we’ve so far had occasion to hear – plus two rather potentially worrying salvos from the charmingly named Assholemouthead which will be going forth into battle with our hi-fi sometime this weekend. For now though Suavity’s Mouthpiece, a gem of a release incorporating six more musical additions to the SM family of pop weirdness and opening with the title cut ‘I call it madness..’ – a fringe flipping cornucopia of woozy kaleidoscopic hazes whose bloodline irrefutably draws inspiration from early career Animal Collective and elements of the Busy Signals whilst not forgetting to mention White Town, gorgeously fried it freewheels and terra forms through a mind swirling landscape of spangle tweaked power pop thrills, sultry Marrakesh brass mirages, lounge lilting string swathes and moments of fuzzy prog rock overtures – all the time affectionately casting its lysergic radiance upon one and all. Its breathlessly deceptive and dashingly attractive stuff, but then what else would you expect of this most mercurial of talents for Mr McRickson – for it is he who is Suavity’s Mouthpiece – is one of those rarest of musical beasts who alchemic abilities allow him to cross weave all manner of disparate generic tags into a beautifully flowing patchwork quilt, much like the Sparks he operates far beyond the current musical spectrum, with his trusted sonic spice rack he cooks a becoming brew of sound that’s familiar yet strange and wired yet wonderful, it’s a dizzying collage that radiates with an acute trippyness, part psyche, part music hall, often engineering some curious nod back to an era steeped in rock operatics – none more so is found to be the case than on the old school English psych eccentricity of ‘a friend plants the knife’ which at times has you imagining the spectre of Vivian Stanshall lending a hand to the proceedings. The sounds forever temporary and fleeting ghost in and out like apparitions, the signatures and styles dissipating into a wonderfully kookily weaved tapestry of sound that for all the world sounds like a condensed history of popular sound shoehorned into bite sized portions and thrown into a washing machine on a hot wash settings wherein all the colours bleed and run into each other. And of course there is the crooning – yes you read right – crooning – the EP dedicated it seems to 20’s star Ross Columbo just check out the faux big band motifs a la ‘winter wonderland’ stylisings at the beginning of ‘guns don‘t kill people, MP3‘s do‘ before the onset of the off kilter fat n’ spongy funky pastorals which we must admit had us double taking it for some dream team collaboration between Beck and Ashley Parks for a second. Then there’s a spot of fragile and dare we say normal moment of tenderness on the demurred noir tipped ’king of love’ while for us ’this is prepubuscence at its finest’ steals the show with its hollowing sepia tinged echoes of homely black n’ white classic flicks spliced with the dinky decorating of maypole dancing archaic psych folk flavourings which at times veer ever so closely into moments of Smiths era Morrissey – esque tailoring. Still bonkers and fried but all the crafty, clever and classy.
first published – august 6th, 2009
the sunday experience 