singled out – missive 149

Singled Out
Missive 149

For Kelly and Mark

Okay this is going to be a very short and brief singled out just so that we can gently ease ourselves into the new year – don’t worry we haven’t held off with the treats – some killer things here that shall shortly be looming ithin your listening space
Next missive will be the bunting draped 150th which we’ve decided will be solely hand over to the wonders to be found on my space – so far it’s turning out to be something of a bumper baby given that we have about 50 plus sites slated for review petty much covering – or so we like to believe – the polar spectrums of this thing we call music – so hopefully you should all find something to fall headlong in love with. Originally slated for this weekend – I.e. today – its been somewhat held up due to the amount of request traffic we’ve had – so apologies to all concerned it should be ready and online sometime mid week. For now go to for sporadic updates.

Okay we’ll start this particular missive arse about face by mentioning the two best things we’ve heard this past week or so……starting with the long promised debut from……

Lumerians ‘Lumerians’ EP (Subterranean Elephants). We aren’t sure if they are named after the fabled race of Subterraneans who like the equally legendary Atlanteans are said to live in underground cities many miles below the earths surface and safe from the carnage unfolding above them. What we do know is that the Lumerians are disciples of the Sonic Boom school of spatial psychedelics. Dispensing with the need for guitars and relying solely on organs, synths and vibraphones braided with boy / girl vocals, the Lumerians are a San Francisco based ensemble who on this – their debut – limited to just 500 numbered copies 5 track 12” pressed up on clear vinyl outing (by the way – cheers Chris for sending over a copy) intricately craft what can only be described as an aural Avalon. Swept along by tides of swirling cinematics that deftly dip between sumptuous sheens of cosmically fried lazy eyed spectral ambient mantras themselves pulsing away like exotic mind evaporating montages dispersing delicately hallucinogenic vapours of lounge like down tempo trippiness a la Basil Kirchen (hook up to the hauntingly void like cosmic mirage of the mood terra forming ‘Turquoise Towers’) and simultaneously at the polar end delving deftly creating monolithic head warping and hypnotic pearls of out there odysseys primed with hypnotic trip switches and coated in florescent glazes – make no bones about it this is a gem of a debut. Utilising the epic and the spectral, each of these cuts seem to take a lifetime to unfurl like some kind of black hole they assume a formidable mass and depth along the way alluding to a wide screen presence all the time freebasing upon cyclical drone structures that whirr deep into your psyche (check the wig flipping and mind bending freeform parting cut ‘triskaideka‘). ’Orgon Grinder’ perhaps the sets centrepiece sounds like its been time tunnelled straight out of the ‘summer of love’ – imparting a decidedly chilled spiritual resonance its lushly infected with the aura of a seriously laid back My Bloody Valentine mooching across snaking plains of arid nothingness, magnificently blank it elicits a stately demeanour woven by dissipating corteges of ethereal key backdrops. Equally stunning is the overtly textured ’olive alley’ – a kind of spellbinding Silver Apples dropped into some primal Aboriginal ceremony. All said and done it’s the opening salvo ‘corkscrew trepanation’ that does it for us – this shade wearing psychotropic babe flashes the kind of grooved poise and unnerving cool that might just make lovers of the Black Angels, the People’s Revolutionary Choir and Brian Jonestown Massacre stop abruptly in their tracks to swoon for a spell. Pure class and single of the missive.

Nephu Huzzband ‘Papers’ (dpc). Don’t be to surprised if you find this lot being mentioned in the next missive – we had something of a cock up incident in our gaff borne out of the fact that we mislaid the bands debut single, this small but consequential detail being brought to our attention by their press rep who quickly sent over a replacement copy (that houses 4 tracks as opposed to the two track original which incidentally turned up after we dispatched a crack squad of reconnaissance troops to search and retrieve) after our glowing appraisal of their my space site (next missive). It’s all a tad confusing isn’t it? Anyhow the strangely named Nephu Huzzband are a youthful quartet who hail from Nottingham and ’papers’ is their debut release and a killer release it is to and quite possibly one of the best we’ve heard in such a long while. Deftly mainlining into the whole late 70’s / early 80’s vibe and blessed with a lead singer who vocal wise could easily pass with a double take or two for a pre Goth / pan stick Robert Smith, Nephu Huzzband superbly extract and blend into a white hot and infectious brew prime sliced elements of Artery, Ludus, the Chameleons (Statik era) and of course ’killing an arab’ era Cure (just check out the frantic blood rushing dislocation of the art artily angular ’untitled one’), frankly like having a best of compilation of Peel shows culled from 1978 – 1981. ‘Papers‘ is one of though rare releases wherein all four cuts on parade appear to be trying to out vie each other as top dog, not a duff one among them and each more than a match for the competition being offered by their peers. From the near perfect bass driven stare you down floor crunching ’destroy Mona Lisa’ – itself nailing fast to the spot a riff groove that can trace its bloodline directly back to the Smith’s ’headmaster ritual’ while deliciously being served up in hallows of austere scratched chiming dream pop to the opening cut – the quite simple superb ’either this wallpaper goes or I do’ which had us momentarily transported back to Liverpool c.1981/ 82 (a la Ellery Bop / 3D a Fish in C et al) as it courts with a hallowed bleakness that strangely radiates with a crooked calypso like exoticism while simultaneously paying nods aplenty to the more darkly fraught moment to be found on both the Bunnymen’s ‘Heaven up Here’ and U2’s ‘October’ That said on this particular listen (and believe you me we’ve spun his a fair few times) ‘Papers’ is found to head up the set by a hairs breadth – a raging firmament of turbulence, from its opening moment which is heralded by a determinedly stark shot gun attack strum, the chase is on – a storming babe that struts, swaggers and slaps out of sight the tedious media prowl of the Camden set, chokingly vibrant and cut with such punishing panache and uber cool it’ll leave you gob smacked and floored with envious admiration. Joint single of the missive.

Sine Star Project ’Bleeding like a dog’ (blood light). Here we are barely a week into the new year and unless this is to be the accepted bench mark that all bands will follow then we are hearing early signs of singles of the year already. Sine Star Project already occupy a small place in our heart mainly due to the unearthly beauty of the symphonic sun showers that their One Little Indian debut full length ’Blue Born Earth Boy’ from 2006 drenched us in. Now with a new album dusted and in the can awaiting release in March entitled ’Building Humans’ the crushing carnival of sound that is the two track taster ’bleeding like a dog’ does some exacting damage on the hi-fi. A glowing example of effervescent pop done to pristine proportions, ’bleeding like a dog’ is a glorious cavalcade of eloping spine tingling dramatics all at once measured, swift and deliriously divine it exacts its bewitching fervour from the word go before charging at pace amid a secretly convened summit wherein ELO, Queen and Sparks are busy dividing up the pop landscape with their combined mercurial operatic tilt. Ridiculously infectious and cut to the quick with a jaw dropping choral throb not to mention housing some masterfully exhumed Brian May riff ringers – perhaps only Misty’s Big Adventure come close to veering into their crookedly oddball creative cosmos. Flip side features a cover of Bjork’s ’army of one’ which sadly ever known hi-fi appliance in our gaff saw fit to spit out – oh well – I’m sure it’s a corker. Joint single of the missive.

The Cesarians ’flesh is grass’ (imprint). This is simply stunning. Featuring ex members of Penthouse, Monkey Island and Baadar Meinhoff, London based quintet the Cesarians are quite possibly just what the doctor ordered in an attempt to shake you from your post Christmas blues. ’Flesh is Grass’ is literally drowning amid a deliriously macabre music hall setting, like some kind of travelling freak show its retells of cautionary doomed tales awash with a cloaking grandeur that’s all at once evocative, dark and raging – slickly draped within sinew straining dramatic effects this melodic mausoleum bites and scratches braided between classically calibrated 30’s Weimar motifs and the stark oppressive shadowy emblems of a Tim Burton animation, the tip toeing creepiness of the piano and clarinet upping the sense of trepidation a la Nyman’s sweeping corteges on ’the draughtsman’s contract’ shifting the carnival sound to its anticipated thunderstruck climatic finale – to be filed alongside the post Soft Cell work of Marc Almond (with the Mambas), the darker moments of Baby Bird and Cathal Coughlan. ’Woman’ over on the flip though admittedly less mercurial in terms of texture and atmospherics still provides for a cauldron brew, a howling spite ridden fest of bludgeoned blues boogie that again recalls in the main Coughlan’s unwavering rage in his post Micro Disney combo the Fatima Mansions but this time wrapped in the claustrophobic grip of early career Bad Seeds, throw in some neat lines of Tom Waits -and Bob’s your uncle.

The Pistolas ’hey hey hey’ (Best Before). This baby is set to cause a certain amount of dance floor damage at forthcoming indie showcase lock ins. ‘hey hey hey’ is the slamming follow up to the ensembles ‘take it with a kiss’ debut from last year which annoyingly I rather gather we might have missed (are you sure – Ed – will check). This panic attacking cutie is primed with a super charged pulse rattling dynamic that’s decoded with wiring and frenetic art pop signatures that swagger and swerve as though they have a firework up their rear end while topped off and braided with a vocal metered out with such prowling anxiety it sounds like its going to spontaneously combust any second now. ‘the wrong stuff’ over on the flip is a searing inferno of sassy and sexy as f**k to hot to handle brew of loose limbed white funk wipe outs, zig zagging hazes and throbbing lust driven floor demolishing groove, a non stop and sweating mirror ball of ravenous horn pop that’s quite possibly the best thing we’ve heard since the Wild bunch’s ’danger! High voltage’ albeit as though wired tight into a looping matrix temptingly nibbling ever so slightly at the Waitresses ’Xmas wrapping’.

The Maccabees ‘Toothpaste kisses’ (Fiction). Another peach of a track it has to be said again culled from their ‘Colour it in’ debut full length. ’Toothpaste kisses’ sees the Maccabess getting all tenderly soft and romantic, a gorgeously idle and breezy love note that features three of our essentially magical music moments to be found on a record – the sound of a cigarette being sparked up at the beginning (last heard here on Roxy Music’s ‘dance away’), the whooping whistles (which frankly there should be more of on records) a la Joe Jackson’s ‘Is she really going out with him’ and flotillas of pining steel guitars. Frame all this in the warming radiance of summer laden gulf streams basking amid nuzzling riff shimmers and you have yourself posy of prickle some daintiness the type of which was once the remit of Pavement – how could you fail not to love this lolloping slice of lilting lazy pop?

Eugene Machine ‘Scent of Money’ (Robotnik). Blimey just where are these corking releases coming (first one to say – the letterbox – gets a scowl that could stop traffic). You won’t to surprised to hear that this is another release that momentarily got lost in the pile(s) and sadly another CD that somehow has managed to wrestle itself from its accompanying press release (that is if there was one in the first place) – tut tut we are digressing somewhat. Those of you with distant memories may well recall this lots floor throbbing remix of the excellent White Rose Movements (whatever happened to them?) ’testacd girl’, ‘scent of money‘ sees the London based starlets stepping out on their own in fine style. Utilising clipped 80‘s dialects and ushering in a thick and slick sophisticated sleazily exotic dub-tronic electro funk groove Eugene Machine’s monochromatic mechanoid schmooze is an immediately alluring retro glazed throw back that taps cleverly into the chicly stuttered minimalist realms as was one time occupied by ’play to win’ era Heaven 17 – nail onto that underpin the mutated dance orientated sound of the (as then) recalibrated ’back to the wall’ era A Certain Ratio’ and mainline in some deceptively tasty Belouis Some nuances and you have something here that should by rights be the cause of much buzzing and whispering among the cooler elements of the undergrounds in crowd. That said its on the quite superbly chilled svelte pop of ‘empty is the heart’ where the true nature of Eugene Machine’s design comes to blossom, positioning themselves sound wise somewhere between the mercurial and crystalline widescreen noire like textures of ROC and the sparse but diligently deft futuro fashioned grind of the uber cool Salon Boris, this sensually flirting after lights out rain washed psychotropic babe sleekly prowls and pulsates amid spatial dub accents and serenading swirls of cosmic pirouettes within early 90’s Bristol scene landscapes (see Massive Attack) like a hybrid funk struck Krafterkian offspring having just discovered techno dream-scapists 808 State / Biosphere. A bit classy if you ask me.

Death by Sadie ‘Limited edition’ (100m). Bollocks we’ve manage to separate the accompanying press release from this gem, well at least we haven’t lost the record which up to a day or two appeared to be the case until it happily re-emerged to grapple with our beleaguered hi-fi. Death by Sadie is essentially an underground super group collective framed around the talents of Kris O’Connor and aided and abetted by members of tKatka and Montauk Projekt. ’limited edition’ is the ensembles debut outing and a storming stellar soaring slice of swaggering shoe gaze drilled gritted dream pop it is to. Freebasing in the main on early Ride styled hollowing streamlined codas, this sugar laced florescent fancy is equipped with a pulsating driving dynamic at its core within which are housed blood lines tracing back to the fuzz laced bliss laden glazes of My Bloody Valentine, Dinosaur JNR and Moose (most notably ‘Jack’ and ‘boy’). Elsewhere there’s a full on ‘clean’ version and a radically overhauled mix by drum ‘n’ bass overlord Forma – better known to kith and kin as AJ Cookson in whose hands the original sound chassis is completely stripped to its factory setting and radically rebuilt and re-aligned with a floor crunching underpin that to these ears sounds not unlike Wagon Christ in a face off with Depeche Mode. Of course its all essential stuff as though you needed to ask.

Various ‘Midwinter Concert’ (Hobby Horse). Okay we briefly mentioned this release last time out amid an extended feature of sorts on all things Owl Service ho towards the close of last year were sneaking out ultra limited releases like no ones business via their shy eyed Hobby Horse imprint. This particular release was intended to be a gig freebie but due to a cock up at the pressing plant as made available for a limited period via the midwich cuckoos site at Following our grumble last missive out – Steven (Owl Service) has been in touch and sent over a replacement copy of this darling of a treat. Culling together 4 acts / artists – Sharron Krauss, Nancy Wallace, the Straw Bear Band and last but not least The Owl Service. This 8 track collection is an exemplary of traditionally hued folk, opening with a brace of demo tracks from Oxford based Sharron Kraus – fair to say that fans of the Watersons and Carthy’s will lap this up – if that is they haven’t already, appearing on her third full length ‘right wantonly a-mumming’ – ‘to shorten winter’s sadness’ is gorgeously frail, a willowy ramble through nature’s death season perkily decorated amid a silkily serenading choir delivery under which the lonesome sound of an accordion / harmonium (never can tell which is which – probably neither) plays – elsewhere ‘down in yon forest’ (our favoured cut) is a textured and teasing archaically treated Gaelic fancy that’s both bewitching and haunting darkly woven. Expect a new full length in the shape of ‘the Fox’s Wedding’ in March. In between vocal duties for both the Memory Band and the Owl Service, London based Nancy Wallace is somehow finding herself time to record a collection of covers inspired by Tom Middleton’s ‘crazy covers’ albums. For now though a nuzzling inner glow is delicately spun with her enchanting treatment of Edward Caswell’s festive hymn ‘see amid the winter’s snow’ – utterly wonderful stuff. Next up the Owl Service – thee selections herein – ‘Katie Cruel’ here caught live is courted with a sumptuously spectral glow while ‘night falls on summer’s end’ – which for those that missed this limited release can be found (we believe – though we’ll check) on the additional download ‘third’ part of that rather spiffing ‘John Barleycorn’ set. This pan psychedelic treat sees Collins and Co re-tracing their roots back to ‘Cine’ for a spot of darkly shot dream weaving a kind of chilled and lysergic ally tipped Ozrics slip fed distant brooding montages culled from Dire Straits ‘private investigation’. That said ‘a child’s calendar’ still quickens the pulse, a demurring babe replete with tinglingly frosted vocals and a defences surrendering demeanour so prettily porcelain it could melt hearts at distance. The Straw Bear Band featured here by way of two radio session tracks ’trial by bread and butter’ and ’lunar light’ are very much cast with that indelible and impeccable glow of those early releases that shuffled with ever consistent delight from the Fence Collective – most notably early career King Creosote it has to be said, employing a hitherto more contrasting (from the trademark Hobby Horse collective sound) prairie folk rock aesthetic, Dom Cooper and friends eke out campfire spirited ditties perfectly primed for idling away to while rocking gently on the porch observing the sun setting. The rootsy ’trial by bread and butter’ with its becoming fusion of acoustic folk motifs awash with a drifting Southern delta breeziness is tasty to say the least though admittedly left in the shade by the impossibly remarkable ‘lunar light’ – metered out with a ball dropping bone crunching meandering underpin this has all the hallmarks of the Palace Brothers recalibrated and re-housed in a dusted new found journeyman roll waylaying Steve Earle’s ‘copperhead road’ sessions and scoring deeply engaging folk blues spirituals of the highest order.

Dollboy / Woodcraft Folk ‘Split‘ (Harmonium). We briefly mentioned this dainty sort last time out when we miss-reviewed the must have Dollboy / Robin Saville split currently doing the rounds via Static Caravan. The debut release from the fledging Harmonium imprint is a dinky three inch CD limited to just 100 hand numbered copies and all housed in handmade sleeve replete with map inserts. This is the first of a planned series of splits under the heading ‘travels around Britain’ that hopefully should see various guest acts taken out of their comfort zones and tasked with covering the work of bands from a particular region of these fair isles – in this case Manchester (or thereabouts – the North West to be more precise). Woodcraft Folk (who incidentally sent over a copy of their ‘trough of bowland’ full length via Earworm – which is currently being much loved here) tackle the Fall’s ’English Scheme’ which initially appeared on the landmark (and perhaps still the defining Fall album) ’Grotesque’. Messrs Hayter and Outram delve deep in to the conscience of this nations foremost social commentators on the English disease. Smoothing the rough edges and the pitched sense of cynicism and unyielding bitterness of the original, Woodcraft Folk relocate ’English Scheme’ in a strangely becoming floral middle England village green setting – bird song and the bobbling bright eyed and bushy tailed wobbling electronics usher in a church like sereneness that whirls deliciously with an unassuming nimble grace all the time Hayter’s vocals are coaxed and cultured with an almost Robert Wyatt like presence which incidentally is a handy thing given that this well crafted cover recalls to a certain extent the ex Soft Machine front mans tackling of ’Shipbuilding’. Mr Cherer AKA Dollboy opts for the ominous task of recalibrating the Smiths finest 5 minutes – that being the hopelessly dashed and epically empty ’last night I dreamt somebody loved me’ as culled from their Smiths by numbers parting finale ‘Strangeways, here we come’. An immensely tortured affair, Dollboy strips the original of its glossy sheen to reveal the extent of the open wounds and even managing to out shine Low in the minimalist / sparse stakes treated as it is to a lone musical box motif for company. So desperate and thoroughly haunted by bleak despair you can almost picture Cherer hunched at the microphone valium, paracetamol, scotch and razor blade in hand – fearfully fragile stuff.

Gossamer Albatross ‘s/t’ EP (Monosound). Debut release from Lewis, Reuben and Geena who collectively shelter under the guise of Gossamer Albatross and hail from rock ‘n’ roll hot bed (not) Hereford. Four silken folk montages feature here, perfectly cut willowy wonders which if the evidence provided by the opening cut ‘whispered thoughts’ is anything to judge waltz into the mercurial pastures more readily associated with Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci. A breezily tip toeing treat of floral flirtatiousness daintily peppered and underpinned by a sweetly prosaic rustic glow that’s lushly tipped by the romantically interweaving underplay at hand between the flightily exuberant violin and the reclining viola cortege. Vibrant and crisp, these picture book treasures nibble and tease playfully sometimes melancholic and thoughtfully pretty (as on the temptingly tender Dexy’s like Gaelic folk pageant ’Raging Bulls’) at others disarmingly idle and warmth filled (’Held hands’ with its delicately classy Nyman-esque sweeping string swirls). Though that said e must admit to being quite smitten by the parting ’Lake Laiture’ as it shyly plays peek a boo amid a wonderfully crafted serenade of campfire carouselling and hope filled blissfulness. The trio will be playing the Notting Hill Arts Centre on 8th March.

The Telescopes ‘Another Whip’ (Trensmat). Ah we love those old inscriptions on the run out grooves on vinyl – a lost art which we much miss and yearn for – this cutie has such messages etched into its grove finish – ’my inner hedge is full of snails’ and on a sledge pulled by whales’ – we haven’t a clue what it all means – just looks good. But then we are simple soles and anyhow the lead out cut of this monolithic opus does sound like looping recording documenting a whale orgy. Ah of course its the Telescopes. The Telescopes are indefinable, beyond trifling categorisations or generic hand cuffs, like Birmingham’s Dream of Tall Buildings they defy the notion of music being merely a cheap and momentary life gap plug. There’s no bandwagon charades here instead Stephen Lawrie and Bridget Hayden are – for want of a better description – explorers of pop’s inner space. As per usual with these Trensmat releases they’re sold out at source though we understand there are limited spares kicking about at outlets such as Norman, Piccadilly and Aquarius. Okay this baby comes pressed on ultra limited hand numbered blue dinked wax housed in a wrap around sleeve (with it has to said a skewed festive feel to it designed by Lauren Naylor) and includes an additional multi media disc which when you pop into your PC you get not only the two tracks featured on the vinyl edition but a twenty three minute slice of visual abstraction put together by Eoin Shea of Ransomed Memories fame with a mind evaporating sound collage provided for by Lawrie and Hayden. ’Another whip’ is uneasy, dark and brooding, a molten black hole of aural manipulations and frequency warped zoned out drone that we’d like to bet if we could grab hold of a hi-fi that whacked out the turntable at 78rpm then we’d lay claim to discovering some wickedly frazzled west coast pop thrill seeker. Instead like some eerie incantation uttered by lost souls onboard the death racked sail boat of the fabled ferryman this esoteric shower of fog bound obliqueness ominously whirrs away, it’s psychedelic concrete done to its darkest and most extreme replete with disenfranchised fragments of forgotten melodies with waveform communications shrilling through the ether. Best played in daylight with the lights all on. Those thinking its gets any easier on the flip side – then think on – the Telescopes these days don’t do playful. ’the blue shroud of Alcatraz’ takes the whole noise induced meditative states to new heights, reminiscent at varying points to Saddar Bazaar, this is a mind numbing odyssey of strobe shot feedback that pulsates, ebbs and flows pushing the sonic matrix to points of fatiguing meltdown wherein the ears can just make out the criss-crossing babble of chatter similar in effect to something passing at high speed across your viewpoint with the brain reconstituting and relaying the image as a blur to without provide lasting evidence that in Hayden and Lawrie we have two of the leading alchemists of sound mapping out the distant and alien worlds to be found occupying pop unknown micro verse.

The High Wire ‘Easy’ (Impatio sound). We must admit to being incurably gob smacked at the spectacle of this lots debut full length (entitled ‘Ahead of the Rain’ and due in the shops in February) which since arriving in our gaff yesterday has been hogging the needle time at the losing today bunting strewn bunting shed. Regular readers may well recall us being in state of raptures when this lots debut release ‘Saint Bees’ hit our door mat and found its way smouldering gently on the turntable (see missive 119). First up and by way of a taster comes this little 2 track babe of prickling pop. ‘Easy’ is a delicately spring hued slice of off kilter precious pop that sounds like the by product of a one night stand between Camera Obscura and a rather up beat and early career Belle and Sebastian, surrendering serenades peppered with a sprightly effervescence breezily wane with demurring melancholia amid bitter sweet sighs all topped with lilting braids of sweeping violins, warming west coast harmonies, pining brass arrangements and the deft daubs of shade wearing florescent 60’s girl pop signatures – an absolute peach if you ask me. ‘Hit a low’ over on the flip is just as divine although it does sound like a reprise to something more substantial – still as brief as it is there’s more than enough about its wits to momentarily have you inwardly tingling with all manner fancifully fuzz feelings the type of which usually only evoked by the sound of the Shortwave Set. Of course – essential but then did really have to wonder?

Great Defenders ‘Re-record don’t fade away’ (self released). Sometimes we do worry. The accompanying press release that came with this CD reads thus….’Great Defenders is the bands attempt to improve their cv’s and get out there into the real world’ adding that all they want is ‘is a sensible job in an office’. No – tell me is someone taking the piss? But on a serious note an ambition to work in an office must rank below a desire to be worm food – take it from me I work in a office (for my sins – which incidentally in no particular order of merit are – bone idle, no motivation, lazy arsed, ambition less, career less cruiser coasting along the lows of humanity) – furthermore the office I unhappily waste a third of my life is a morbid cross between ’One flew over the cuckoo’s nest’ and ’big brother’ minus the personalities, the gags, the punch lines and the golden trough at the end to which I spend a good deal of the day thinking up new places about my person to which to stick needles in and spend an inordinate amount of time outside having a fag which given I packed up smoking 5 years ago is something of a puzzle. Their web page doesn’t offer up any further insights either that said its safe to say that ‘re-record don’t fade away’ is as simultaneously catchy as Blur’s ’girls and boy’ as it is annoying as ’parklife’ – a mass overload of skewed riffs riding roughshod aside flanks of warping electronics over which a casual as you like shopping list like lyric mantra is blankly dispatched, it’s a deliciously crooked affair with the opening riffs sounding like they’ve been swiped straight from Elastica’s arse pocket before kookily passing out regimental style with the wired air of the Cardiacs after a fist fight with Magoo – between the cracks they manage to shoehorn in soft psych and art pop accented road tests before walloping you out of sight with a gem of a chorus the type of which has the hairs on the back of you neck swooning in disbelief. Flip the disc for the less chaotic and considerably stronger ’great defenders’ to which the musical division of the GD organisation deliver up a spot of spiked and sugared lysergic pop that frankly if you ask me I’d swear it was hoodwinked from Andy ’XTC’ Partridge’s secret stash of 60’s west coast psych treated nuggets. Smart or what?

.And that’s it for a few days – next up will be the bumper my space missive – the 150th no less – so as you can imagine there will be plenty of party poppers and bunting decorating the singled out record hut.

Back with the singles next weekend – wherein we’ll still be clearing up last years releases – always ahead of the game eh – while peppering your shopping list with some well aimed suggestions such as the Benjamin Wetherill debut for On the Bone which unless I’m very much mistaken has all the hallmarks of a single of the missive.

Till then….take care…..


published 12th January 2008

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1 Response to singled out – missive 149

  1. Pingback: God Is In The TV: Tales from the Attic – Volume XII The lost b side remixed – dub version Revolutions of a 33 and 45 kind. | moonblogsfromsyb

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