This is scrumptiously impish, be warned once in earshot this’ll have you driven to near distraction. We hear the ghosts of the Slits, Delta 5, Au Pairs and the Native Hipsters converging en-masse, their gathered number woven and weaving a fracturing slice of angular art pop that playfully tugs and twists at your sinews as it crookedly woos with waywardly prickling panache creaking and cooing with maddening hysteria, this folks be the debuting platter from the Serafina Steer fronted Bas Jan entitled ‘no sign’ – is it just me that thinks moments steer – no pun intended – every so often melodically close into Sleeper terrains with harmonies by the B-52’s and sighing strings a la Nyman. Just me then.
the sunday experience 