Midwich Youth Club

Am I sensing the frenetic tension, art gouged energy and wiry erratic of a youthful XTC bleeding through the proto pop grooves of ‘cock of the walk’, I’d like to think so, the ricocheting razor riffs riddled and rapid fired with a rash forming manic whose schizoid serving nails a Cardiacs like waywardness, why who can it be I hear you scream, why it be those loveable loons of frazzled freakdom, Midwich Youth Club herewith, we’re led to believe, a Christmas digital decoration for your tinselled listening space. Of course, ‘Cock of the Walk’ isn’t your festive feast that’ll be the flip cut ‘the Holiday Song’ and even then, though as hard as I’ve tried, I still can’t find any trace of snow, a twinkling star or a chiming bell with which to urge me to throw open the windows and sing loudly and share merry tidings for the season. Still, it sounds Stump-ish or at least something very similar which presently I can’t recall to mind because my hips and feet are colluding to busily weave a contortionist path across the kitchen floor in time and step to the jagged and noodling bass line, whatever the case, it comes seasoned with the overwhelming whiff of C-86 to which alone is cheer enough, at least in this residence. Yarooh!


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