missive 163 - part 4
13-06-2008
Singled out
Missive 163
Part 4

Fuck Dress ‘Suburban Nietzsche Freak’ (NRONE). Damn this is a fine slice of toe tapping temptation which between you and me I don’t mind saying appears to bring us out in a strange rash whilst compelling us to do what can only be described as some oddly quickened tempo’d tribal dance performed by someone with an acute attack of appendicitis while being plugged into the household mains. The quaintly named Fuck Dress - I think there will be radio play issues here lads and lasses (though they are - give them their due - alternatively named Bonk Frock - which lets face it is worse still) - feature amid their flock straying members of the overwhelming under acclaimed talents of Fiel Garvie doing extra curricula cash in hand work. So audacious and irresistible a tune is ’Suburban Nietzsche Freak’ that we somehow wonder how we’ve so far gotten through the days before it greyly ran its austere procession by our hi-fi. In essence a 3 minute 27 second post punk party pack that gathers up all the best moments to be had from John Peel’s late night radio shows c. 1979 - 1981 finitely tuning them into a potent blankly zoned and blistering beauty of a cut into which is woven some impish piss taking, shock treated needle-some wiring riffs that sound like the were hoodwinked from early career Fall master tapes and a cross weaving boy / girl chorus hook so acutely infectious its huggable though all finding themselves mugged by an insidiously addictive flat-lining gridlocked underpin that struts with dead panned menace. An absolute killer of a cut - jabs may be required. Flip side features the equally inspired and monochromatic sounding ’Sunshine Corporation’ - another detached drilling of post punk edginess this though branded as though the wiring psychosis of ‘join hands’ era Banshees had met head on ‘kicker conspiracy’ era Fall, lacerated by fraying head jarring riffs and a monotonous almost brainwashing grind this cutie had us on more than one occasion recalling the decay riddled back catalogue of the Vichy Government. Essential of course. www.nronerecords.co.uk

Buggering hell here’s the video featuring dancing cardinals, monty python moments, oodles of surrealism and zanyness, Benny Hill moments, grunt mags and er - Radiohead - well you can’t have it all your own way - this video may not be suitable for those with absolutely no fuckin sense of humour while just one listen may well incur looping flashbacks and the acquisition of a good taste in music - hell you might even buy it - comes pressed on limited amounts of grey / silver wax or so we‘ve been told - can we have one…..you can see the blighter right here…..



Escape Act / Tom McShane ‘split’ (penny distribution). Another killer split release it has to be said featuring two of Ireland’s fast on the rise talents sharing the billing on an outing via the San Francisco imprint Penny Distribution. Escape Act are no strangers to these missives having had the audacity to have had us swooning off our feet and begging for more with last years ’hot air’ debut for twist and shout (see missive 121). The trio have since been holed up recording their soon to be released debut full length ’loosely based on fiction’ from which ’God says’ is culled. A thumping pop rocket that demands the hitting of the replay button, this short and sweet babe barely touches the 2 minute 30 ticker tape yet don’t be fooled by its seemingly slender frame this melodic dynamo pulls more hooks and punches than an illegal after hours boxing bout, fused with crystalline power chords and dashed with a fuzzing west coast glow this irresistibly razor sharp anthem laden strut bunny manages to nibble ever so slightly at the codas from Teenage Fan club’s ’God knows its true’ and AC/DC’s ‘you shook me all night long’ and dresses it up and sends it packing in the big wide world with the chest beating cavalry coming over the hill jubilatory throb of early career Big Country. Too cool for its own good. You’d suspect being the lonesome singer songwriter that Tom McShane may have been faced with an uphill struggle in trying to match the full on band sound of Escape Act. Think again, Mr McShane more than admirably holds his own and while he might lack in the comparable latent power surge stakes he more than makes up for in crafting lingering dust swollen bruised ballads that snake with a smoking amour across darkly swept sultry landscapes. With a full length already under his belt in the shape of ’departures’ Mr McShane has already been compared in passing with the great Domino troubadours Smith, Callaghan and Oldham though by our reckoning the radiant arid eddies circling at the core of the introspectively mellowing ’fighter’ signal someone who has wiled away the odd evening in the company of Neil Young’s oft overlooked ’Eldorado’ set. Frankly we need to hear more. www.pennydistribution.com

Oddfellows Casino ‘the absence of birds’ (pickled egg). It’s been way too long since we’ve found ourselves romanced by the delicately floral tinged lush tones of David Bramwell’s creative muse. In fact not since 2003’s ’Winter Creatures’ graced our heart heavy hi-fi with its timeless floorshow of strangely beguiling softly cured jazz induced pastoral pop. Since that time nothing. The odd occasional rumour of a third album was mooted much in the same way as a comment of a passing acquaintance from the past are exchanged to fill conversational lulls. Deep down we feared the worst, such rare and precocious talents are usually so commercially unsustainable and rewarded that it’s a crime with most absconding into obscurity. So then imagine our delight when said 4 track EP pops through the mail box - not only that but tagged to the end a twenty minute film directed by Toby Amies entitled ‘ballad of odd fellow’ (more about that in a second) with the added promise of an album ‘the haunting of lady bower and other tales’ looming promisingly on the not to distant horizon. Now settled with a like minded musical collective in support featuring various members from Stereolab, Bevis Frond (whatever happened to them?), Clearlake and Giant Leap, Bramwell leads the troupe and listener alike on a joyous voyage into the sultry toned sophisticated worlds of his creative muse, a world of vivid tones, caressing tonalities, bespoke down tempo arrangements lush with rare vibrancy and romantic incline peppered with mood, mystery and melody. A treasure if I’m honest, far from the madding crowd these four tailored treats exude a deft worldly clarity and a sense of timeless etching, fluent in a pop language from another era the set opens to the opining waltz like ’your old skin and bones’ - a silken and smoked soothed soul gem replete with reclining threads of hush harmonies drenched in wells of chilled keys longingly dashed with echoes of tragically tear stained introspection all sumptuously glazed with the liberal braids of breezy flute florets. The tenderly sorrowful ‘Oddfellows Wake’ provides for a beautifully brittle ballad, Bramwell’s Wyatt like vocals softly caressing and crushed endow this spectral still life portrait with a church like resonance while the parting ’the ghost of oddfellows’ is succulently embracing slice of demurring perfection teased and framed within divinely arcing orbits of hazing honeycombs of lounge like fluffiness. Though all said and done for us ’take me out to the sea’ provides the set with its defining moment. A radiating cherrystone liltingly immersed in prodding braids of peeping brass arrangements festooned delightfully with mercurial folds of after hours grandeur comprising of driving montages of breathlessly breezy rustically hued cascades of head swirling jazz treatments peppered by lunatic chimes - total seduction if you ask me. As to the accompanying film - a bit of a strange one though that shouldn’t come as any great surprise to those familiar with the mystery and magic that so indelibly indents Oddfellows Casino. The premise of the film is the self inflicted misfortune of Ambrose Oddfellow, the owner and ring master of a Victorian freak show who accidentally kills his wife in a tragic knife throwing act and then spends the rest of his life in abject regret for the love he’s lost. Filmed and sepia framed as though a vintage film reel it finds the former Salvador Dali model and actor in films directed by both Warhol and Jarman - Drako Oho Zarhazar taking up the lead role, magnificently cast in the part - he does look a ringer for the bad guy in old Chaplin films, this short movie - an art form in itself features music provided for Bramwell and co, Bramwell incidentally has a cameo as the ’grinning man’. Joint single of the missive. www.pickled-egg.co.uk

Tkatka Vs. Tom Hickox ‘Grief Hijackers’ (100m). Okay bit of a strange one this given that it didn’t come with the usual press sheet (which incidentally on this occasion we wouldn’t have lost). Instead a slip card accompanies the CD which initially threw us a slight curveball having us believing initially that this release was in fact called ’terrorknowledgeaction’. How daft we were - a quick check on the bands / labels website reveals that to be title of their forthcoming second full length due for release at the beginning of July. Last seen turning on the singled out turntable via their ’lazerslab’ single for Junk bait (see Missive 99 - blimey was it really two years ago - how time flies). This time of asking sees the Anglo Swedish duo going head to head with Tom Hickox a London based singer songwriter whose own debut album ’fear in a handful of dust’ released earlier this year has been wooing certain corners of the media with comparisons to Nick Drake, Leonard Cohen and the Super Furry Animals being quietly touted - recommendations indeed that lead us to believe we should be checking it out. This single features two taster cuts from that aforementioned set - ’grief hijackers’ and ’landeur Lloyd limit’ that reveal a stark shift in the mood, texture and technique of the Tkatka craft, ‘grief hijackers’ - the original mix of which - I think I’m right in saying - can be found via www.myspace.com/tomhickox - itself a tear stained and touchingly hurtful gem lying in wait for wider acclaim and affection is here deftly air brushed with a succulently amorphic nocturnal lull, crystalline electro orchestrations herald an expansive meter being brought to the proceedings that once applied endow the track with a sophisticated wide screen cinematic presence. Fades in slowly as the late Mr Peel would no doubt have quipped, hulking statuesque beats pierce the undulating solace of the cocooning ethereal climates, the spectral glazes and mantra like lunatic swirls creating a deliciously affecting glacial tenderness over which the apparition like visitation of Hickox’s enriched tones delicately lilt to undo your defences - reference wise think of a chilled out Ultramarine cavorting with the Aloof with Lionrock doodling about under the mixing desk . Flip the disc for the all to brief acoustic version of the drifting ’landeur Lloyd limit’ which provides a momentary chance for the catching of breath after the last cut while simultaneously carving for itself a breezy passage into some strangely absorbing and very much post folk rock noodling. That album is firmly on our wants list. www.tkatka.com

Vile Imbeciles ‘Bad Ideas’ (tee vee eyer). We suggest that you get a pen right now along with a piece of scrap paper and jot down the date June 30th. And then if like me your pre-disposed to losing such memory jogging memos then staple said scrap of paper to your forehead. Why - you may well ask - should you subject yourself to the arduous task of a) finding a pen (assuming in these days of computer keyboards - you know what a pen is and what it looks like), b) using said pen (again see reasoning in point a) and c) noting the date 30th June because it’s not as if its giro or bath day. Well putting it bluntly the starter for ten taster for the Vile Imbeciles forthcoming second full length entitled ’Queenie was a Blonde’ will be released. The Brighton based ensemble revolving around the core nuclei of former members of Neil’s Children and 80’s Matchbox B-line Disaster have in the past been variously described as purveyors of death jazz and junk funk, have released one previous full length in the shape of ’…ma’ and have in their so far short lived career managed to all at once cause alienation, amusement and adoring affection from their fan base. As said the single features both ’bad ideas’ and ‘worm’ and provides for a brace of cuts so sharply contrasting that you need an industrial strength microscope to see the join let alone the related DNA strand. The darkly frazzled ‘bad ideas’ is an abstractly decanted slice of off road skewed dislocated funk grated with misfiring dirty riffs that to these ears sound like they’ve been prized and mutated from the grip of a mutant styled Rick James and with it one of those kind of records that despite its overt irregularity and misshapen odd pop sensibility disturbingly attracts and manages to squirm its way back on the hi-fi for another once over or three. That said we’re inclined to admit our fondness for the flip cut ‘worm’ - a cut that doesn’t so much evolve and unfurl over the course of its 4 minute duration but rather more disfigures, assuming a deathly gallows feel and an ever darkening almost choking noire like menace, this crooked beauty creaks and groans like an early career Black Heart Procession - parading an inebriated shanty like hue it comes across like a macabre meditation flashed through with uncomfortably surreal moments of what can only be described as the type of sounds that used to backdrop those worrying cartoon collages imported from Eastern Europe and shown on early 70’s children’s TV - either that or the imagined sounds cape accompanying the short trip across the River Styx to the land of the dead with the Ferryman. Whatever the case its enough to give even Tom Waits at his most disturbed recurring nightmares. Essential in case you didn’t gather the fact already. www.myspace.com/vileimbeciles

If you re-dial your dabs / internet etc you should be able to hear Darren from the very excellent Thee SPC label chewing the fact and playing an array of stonking records on a local BBC show hosted by Denzil Watson - who readers to these pages will recognise as being the main man behind the ensemble Repo Men and label Phantom Power - you can access the show for a week via the link http://www.bbc.co.uk/southyorkshire/content/articles/2005/01/13/rt_listen_live_feature.shtml - or via DAB at
104.1, 88.6, 97.4 FM & DAB Digital Radio

You can catch a short interview with Owl Service main man Steve Collins (whose very wonderfully ‘the fabric of folk’ release features somewhere amid this particular missive) at http://www.southern.net/southern/news/?id=429 - where while you are there you can order yourself a copy of the bands debut full length ‘a garland of song’.

Like a Thief ‘The hours we kept’ (Stonetrax). Okay necks firmly on the block when we say that this is truly something else. ‘the hours we kept’ - the third outing from Like a Thief who in essence is Holly Jazz Lowe who in the early days of a blossoming career of promise was initially signed to Mercury with a view to having her debut full length recorded, pressed and issued onto an unsuspecting world before - with reasons best left to the suits - she was unceremoniously cut adrift and dumped. Now most would take this rude awakening to pop’s pot of gold at the end of a rainbow as a decisive hint that maybe a career overhaul and change was needed. Not the Scarborough based Lowe - instead she’s been busily tinkering and honing her craft and slowly but surely pulling in a growing fan base. ’the hours we kept’ is one of those rare moments of pristine forming pop, the kind of thing where all the disjointed assembled parts in its make up suddenly sublimely crystallise into a moment of near perfection to deliver something that quite frankly radios were invented for to play. Appearing to take its reference points - lyrically from Jimmy Webb’s ’by the time I get to Phoenix’ and musically from the Steinberg / Kelly penned ’drove all night’ - ’the hours we kept’ is a driving pop sortie that bristles, twists and swaggers amid a slinky and infectious pop powered chassis that wires elements of sultry laced exotic Latino accents, vintage sourced 50’s bubblegum pop accents, vibrantly smoked jazz codas and tempered tenderly with the subtle visitations of skanking riffs that are all gathered, polished and overtly equipped into a stunningly infectious dynamo like pop shell. Atop all this Lowe restlessly pants and purrs seductively making this something of an irresistible turntable tease. Better still -
the flutter like ‘Calling all dilemmas’ over on the flip is positively crooked and reveals an impishly flighty side to Lowe’s artistry, brightly poppy and dinky yet drilled with a skewed skattiness that sees it blending classroom cuteness with surreal fairground flirtations, drawn around a dainty key motif the light headed willowy delivery of Lowe swirls aimlessly as though lost in its idle some beauty as she drives through the scales dragging and drawing the melodies through some of the most amazingly strange contortions we’ve heard in a long while. A bit of a gem if you ask me. www.myspace.com/likeathief

And as we mentioned Roy Orbison (as though we needed any excuses) earlier here’s a live cut of him performing the killer ‘running scared’ - still sends shivers down the spine……



The Lodger ‘The good old days’ (bad sneakers). Yes yes yes we know its been out for ages, probably sold shed loads made them cover stars of the inkies - well at least the ones we haven’t seen and they are probably ensconced on some idyllic tax haven living a life of luxury. Or then maybe not. Culled from their second full length ‘life is sweet’ which we have about our wares (somewhere) - an album that we don’t mind admitting to a fair amount of fondness for, ‘the good old days’ is ridiculously cute, festooned amid an intoxicating haze of see sawing sun beaming white funk chiming jangles this lightly toed slice of arresting effervescence bridges the smile happy infectious pop vintage of Orange Juice with the pre ’Three Lions’ Lightning Seeds and positively radiates feel good beams from its grooves to despatch a pick me up more potent than any under the counter chemically conceived anti depressant though frankly we would advise the donning of a suitable sun screening cream when in its vicinity. Flip the disc for the cut kookily re-drilled by the Slips (Rob Haggett and David Treahearn - in case you were wondering) who to date have had their remixes services called upon by the likes of Bjork, Massive Attack and Madonna - I’m sure you’ll agree it looks well good on the old CV. In their capably envied hands ’the good old days’ is treated to a fried electro frazzled spot of genetic engineering that to these ears sounds somewhat distantly related to early career Depeche Mode which by our reckoning is the second time said band have been mentioned in this particular missive. Recommended of course. www.myspace.com/thelodgerleeds

The video goes something a lot like this…..



The RRR’s ‘my valentine’ (headtones). Impossibly addictive, devilishly infectious and obnoxiously catchy. The debut release from RRR’s is all at once a crooked and careering affair. The quartet who saunter about with names like Maxima Moog, Rowan Gifted, Tom Rocket and Les Woods - the latter of which we suspect isn’t on his birth certificate cutely spin sugar tipped pop tarts at the drop of a hat. Opening ambit ‘my valentino’ is an unadulterated wash of tingling pop effervescent flavoured innocence, Moog’s vocals sounding like some wired hybrid of Clare Grogan on hormones coming across like Eartha Kitt on helium, admittedly braided with a likeness to the 5678’s and Shonen Knife in a handbag at paces nursery spat over who has the last malted milk biscuit at break time - but how we love it - 50’s bubblegum accents, tiger-ish softly planted riff kisses and lashings upon lashings of infectious sing-a-long harmonies - frankly its catchier than a summer cold. ‘Forbidden kiss’ follows in quick procession - more servings of sugared pop that dinkily sound like its fallen from an 80’s pop soundtrack making for a spot of lip smacking flighty fun all packaged with summer fresh breezily skipping riffs, French pop fancies, honeycombed with Razorcuts like harmonies and candy laced crooning montages that curiously exudes a vaguely exotic South Pacific feel while simultaneously thumbing through a vibe sourced directly from the early back catalogue of Kitchenware. ‘Credit crunch’ rounds up the pack - a more angularly focused nugget this time of asking invested with teeth baring darting riffs and a monochrome finish that should satiate the toe tapping needs of the skinny tie wearing brigade. In short exuberant stuff kids. www.rrrs.co.uk

Gagarin ‘Agrichem’ (Smallfish). the first of two tasty morsels from the eclectic electronic imprint Smallfish. We’ve had to do a fair amount of digging around for life’s smaller details such as who / hat and why is about Gagarin and it seems it is the nom de plume for a certain Graham Dowdall who at one time cut his teeth as a youngster drumming for legendary 80’s band Ludus before embarking on a prolonged period working with Nico. The 90’s were spent collaborating with the likes of Cabaret Voltaire and Sons of Arqa going on to form Sonexuno in the mid 90’s. The Gagarin side of matters has been around and about since the same period - acclaimed releases have found loving homes on the rosters of Filament and U-cover as well as his own Geo imprint. No idea how many of these little cuties are about though be warned its best to get your backsides into gear if you want to nail one of these beauties. Pressed on the 3 inch CD affair, amid these three pocket symphonies it seems that Gagarin loves nothing more than imparting reflective and introspective suites of sparsely drawn glacial textures - that is if the opening cut here ’phormium’ is anything to judge by. Measured and poised, its frail bleakness is only matched by its tear stained celestial swirls which admittedly initially sound like some fractured test card montage as delicately unwrapped by a lovelorn ISAN that soon softly thaws to be punctured by lilting key trestles that are dappled by shuffling beats that coalesce sumptuously into a thoughtfully introspective slice of nocturnal numbness whose barren atmospheres nod ever so slightly to the Copeland penned score for ’Wall Street’. ’Fila’ is similarly coaxed and bathed in lunatic configurations that playfully shift between sheens of porcelain expanses of minimalist applications and mooching noire-ish bass laden underpins that assume a quiet grace with its momentary appearance of celestial apparitions being refracted through dreaming hazes the moment briefly ruptured towards the close with the onset of eerie transitions. ‘aconite‘ wraps up the set, this caressing star lit gem gently opines away ith a disarming lullaby like charm casting delectable pirouettes amid its cocooned igloo like environment. More please. www.smallfish.co.uk


Smith 6079 ’Sound of Silence’ (self released). To much gnashing of teeth it seems we somehow missed out on last years kill romeo’ debut. The Mancunian outfit have in their brief career to date been picking up plaudits and rave reviews like no-ones business putting them firmly on the radar of ones to watch. Second outing sees them masterfully claiming the old Simon and Garfunkel penned nugget from yesteryear ‘sound of silence’ as their own, superbly re-carving the originals delicately dainty thoughtfulness into a hulking brooding beast of such momentous clout to boast an air of Peter Gabriel’s ‘Games without frontiers’ into its masterfully woven matrix. Make no bones about it there’s something silently statuesque about their reappraisal, Moon’s vocals sounding like they’ve been fermented and smoked in a malt stained cask invests a quietly hollowing stature to the proceedings while simultaneous painfully picking away at the wounds and bruises of the songs emotion crushed nature with such unnerving explicit exactness that you‘d swear he was living it for real, the melodies - a halo of recoiling chimes are reduced to the merest tick of a slow beating heart pulse unravel ceremoniously with a Cathedral-esque flair all the time pitched within an edgily shadow laced vacuum that once heard will frankly leave you jaw dropped and in awe. Flip the disc for the self penned subtle brit pop psychedelics of ’Here Again’ - annoyingly our copy skipped all over the turntable and not in a musical way - alas good for us that we managed to source aid cut on their my space site. This howling early 90’s styled effects laden mantra swaggers and swoons with all the finesse of My Jealous God’s ’everything about you’ while similarly chartering waters more readily occupied My Electric Love Affair. Frankly kids you need this in your life. www.mypace.com/smith6079

The Bar lights ’Honest misbehaviours’ (NR ONE). Formerly known as Oblique of whom upon their ‘going going gone’ debut from a few years ago much fondness was heaped in these pages. Several years later after a few line up tinkers, some university and variously brief job careers the four piece have finally settled and gelled the first fruits of which crystallise on this quietly affecting three track debut. The Barlights it seems excel at manoeuvring their melodic pop art with an unfailing deceptive charm, not immediate or obvious but rather more despatching it to exact a delayed shock. In singer Adam Chase they have a vocalist whose ability to channel the ranges of emotion at the blink of an eye is second to none only to Suede’s Brett Anderson - and while the Suede like overtones may not be so explicit at first hand both the flip cuts ‘Driving so Fast’ and (especially) ‘on a Saturday’ (by far the best cut here) exert and attach the unmistakable spectre of the more overt side of the 90’s first graders back catalogue - the latter softly coalescing elements of Anderson and Co’s rough and raw emotion wounds from their debut full length with the subtle anthem like pop primed postures of their criminally undervalued ‘coming up’- all dashed with a sucker punching chorus tag amid melodious hooks that caress tenaciously whilst delivering a gorgeously unfettered swagger. ’Driving so fast’ on the other hand is initially treated to the spectacle of darkly unfurling rustics hat soon dissipate amid torrents of passion laced crests, a quietly numbing anthem like gracefulness is courted of the type rarely heard since Verve’s ’Lucky Man’ or ’Sonnet’ albeit bled and swept aside with the cut to the quick hollowness of the aforementioned Suede at their most introspective. That’s not to say that the lead out cut ’honest misbehaviours’ is the weak link here or the one to be avoided at all costs, this beauty packs its own emotion sapping spectacle - braided with a gorgeously lolloping key montage and swelled with an alluring drift like countrified aura this slow burning honey assumes a resonating bruised stature that once it gets going and finds its groove may well remind older listeners of a pre ’Sit Down’ era James. Excellent stuff. www.nrone.co.uk


Temposhark ‘Blame’ (Paper Glue). Who said it sounded like the contents of a time capsule deposited in a hole in the 80’s by Depeche Mode. Co written with Youth of Killing Joke fame and culled from their forthcoming full length ‘the invisible line’, ‘blame’ is pierced with truckloads of primed passion and dashed with a quietly affecting pop sensibility that shifts addictively through the gears from a minimalist set dark prowl to envelope into cascading tides of rich cinematic presence, its stature building slowly but surely with each passing groove unfurling tenaciously into the process. Mixing edginess with string swept loops that despatch an elegant euphoria all the time braided with momentous swirls of driving arrangements this babe is the ultimate passion laden electronic symphony. Elsewhere here you’ll find two additional mixes of the same cut by Mark Moore shape shifting Eon and John Callaghan, the former scratching away at the surface gloss to craft and recalibrate a monochromatic moocher tendered by sparsely woven subtle house vibes, hip hugging skinny jeaned riffs and an unnerving sense of urgency and edginess. The latter provided by Warp favourite John Callaghan - an artist who regrettably in recent years has seemingly passed us by notwithstanding the fact that way back in’98 he teased our turntable into states of delirium with (an at the time rare 7 inch Warp outing) entitled ’I’m not comfortable in my mind’ thus ensuring into the bargain a lasting place in our heart. Admittedly this has all the hallmarks of the Aloof’s ’one night stand’, Callaghan completely disassembles the original chassis and reconfigures the design into a softly bathed celestial ceremony - the vocals dispatched into the ether laced void under which a subtly amorphic symphony unfurls. Elsewhere Singled Out favourites Metronomy go head to head with another album cut - this time ‘not that big’ is given the fully MOT service and sonic re-spray and emerges sounding not unlike a deliciously dirty Vince Clarke era version of Depeche Mode which leaves Grid / The Droyds man Richard Norris to tangle himself up with on the unreleased (so far) cut ‘the River’ and serve up a slice of sumptuous club floor packing nocturnal grooved passion. www.temposhark.com



More tomorrow….

Mark..
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