chin of britain

We don’t want to give the impression that we here operate a favouritism policy, but gift us with a limited vinyl artefact signed and numbered no less accompanied with a press release that informs us of said bands family tree extending back to th’ faith healers and quick space (in fact the space grooving dissolving to freak folk lovely ‘go down to the hole’ could easily hoodwink itself on to ‘Death of Quickspace’ without so much the batting of an eyelid) and offering a positive name check of a who’s who smattering of cool 90’s indie heads from the opposing end of the Brit pop spectrum whose tuneage once upon a time graced and grooved away upon the late night radiophonic transmissions of a certain Mr Peel and we are pretty much yours for the taking. One name emerges as a common denominator, Chin Keeler be his name who hiding behind the nom de plume Chin of Britain has been hatching plans for out and out indie bedroom swoon for a while now, the results finally coming to fruition on his debuting self titled solo full length. This fella comes pressed up on limited slabs of heavy duty wax – limited to just 250 copies, all hand numbered by the man himself and each including a signed certificate of authenticity. Looks well smart I have to admit. Of course there’s your obligatory downloads and CD versions to be had by those heathens among you who sold their turntable souls for digital or else unfortunate enough to miss the stampede to the local record emporium. So that’s it with the background gubbins. What’s the blighter like you might rightly enquire. The bollocks quite frankly would be our curt and immediate reply. Where to start is the chief problem, guess the recent single is as good a place as any. ’nothing changes’ is about you in an instant, fizzing riffs, shimmer toned struts and a to die for pristinely sun kissed melodic hook is what’s shoe horned into this star gazing speaker spanking beauty, very much the kind of psyched out space groove that would have needled the songbook of the aforementioned ’Healers had it where they’d been spiked with a bubblegum pop mindset. Betwixt effervescence and euphoria ’nothing changes’ jet streams amid a vibrantly radiant spray of kraut gouged pop motifs all swooned in space age 60’s styled keys and a festooning of razor rallying strum-a-delics all pepper corned in a subtle kaleidoscopic shading. ‘chill the fuck out’ is anything but, deep scowling riffage and some niftily noodled calypsodelic needlework give it a kind of Billy Mahonie like tropicalia flavouring. Somewhere else there’s the shoe gazing pop frazzled ‘Lab factored ‘to the sun and beyond’ buzz sawing its way through a late 60’s UFO club set list. Those much adorning of your bracingly acute bitter sweet power pop might be advised to fast forward through the track list wherein you‘ll stumble across and fall hopelessly in awe of ‘run from the sun’ – mind you the fact that it hints ever so subtly of the Raspberries as though found re-wiring the Monkees comes as an added bonus as they scamper off holding hands to a secret 70’s west coast dinked MOR hidey hole. The sighing arrest of ‘make it all go away’ is aglow in a smoky off kilter vibe that strays to the demurred affectionate after burn of a youthful Doleful Lions found sparring with an equally young Summer Hymns. Best of the set in our much humbled opinion though is something of a tug of war. On one side there‘s the simply blow you away spectral elegance of ‘so good to be here again’ which emerges wrapped in a deeply entrancing and dare we say majestic glam dream coat, all monastic overtures and clipped with the kind of cinematic expansiveness that these days seems to be the trademark design of the Flaming Lips. At the opposing corner the entrancing ’climb in your mind’ manages to terra-form across a myriad of musical landscapes with the kind of mercurial artistry rarely heard here outside of the grooves the Grails epic ’doomsdayer’s holiday’ set from a few years back, blending the magical with the mystical it sumptuously freewheels to a tapestry coded in folk enchantment, sweeping pastorals, mutant progressive hybrids and post rockist symphonics – utterly monumental. Incidentally out via Waltz Time and in a perfect world selling like hot pies on a snow frosted day.

This entry was posted in groovy bastards... and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s