mat motte

Where has the sun gone asks Mat Motte – ‘fraid to say its in our garden where its been for the last few days. Oh the joys of the British summertime. As dependable as politicians and the national team we laughingly call a football squad, it centres around that round yellow thing in the sky that people oft mistake for extra-terrestrial visitors given we as a nation are not generally used to seeing it. Anyhow enough grumbling and over to Mat Motte to happily take over the reigns. Mat was formerly of Mower – an ensemble much adored around these here parts many moons ago who in their brief tenure released a handful of nuggets on Mr Coxon’s esteemed transcopic imprint. Imminent on plethora records is ’summer song’ – a master class in the art of nailing to the floor the classic ingredients of an – erm – sub four minute pop nugget – sarcasm, grumbling and keen eyed witticisms aplenty come stapled to a ludicrously memorable and criminally catchy chorus line that stares mournfully beneath gloomy overcast skies longing to be somewhere else all bitter sweetly feel good in tone, insanely infectious, ridiculously hum-able, acutely bright eyed and fizzy and sunburning with radiating effervescence and which – deserving of a mention – goes all ELO in critical meltdown at the finale – there’s an album to come – yes.

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