We’re not going to succumb to the glittering schoolboy humour potential afforded by this band’s name. Instead, let us sway along to its slightly disorientating, dreamlike demeanour and marvel at how gypsy oompah vibes and darkened twists really can merge with close 50s/60s pop harmonies.
Because that’s basically how this third LP from these guys kicks off — a bit like a less boozy, more druggy Gogol Bordello, in an old-school American diner for opener Under The Sea. Or The Ronettes reborn in the mid-00s indie/art-pop wave, as on the uptempo likes of Fading Out. Either way, the nostalgic elements add warmth to the core art-rock recipe, by turns very angular and spacey.
Young Men Living sports a chirpier, retro rock’n’roll chorus, though not without contorted distortion moments and a woozy bridge to boot. But for all the mischievous touches, a melancholy undercurrent runs through much of this, most sadly in There Are Always Two Answers, which trails off with the plaintive refrain, ‘Things don’t have to change, nobody has to go,’ as if reluctant to leave this cirque bizarre. Curiouser and curiouser.
