So the notoriously prolific Luke Haines has made an album of songs about "placing 70s wrestlers in psychedelic situations". Its the kind of perverse move Haines is known for in a career of expertly written pop songs about terrorism, child murder, fake psychics and often forgotten pop stars. It's a strange topic but somehow unsurprising - what's even less surprising is how good it is.
Big Daddy Got A Casio VL Tone is probably the best example of the musical perversity onshow here, with an intro akin to The Fall's Man Whose Head Expanded giving way to synthesized flutes and "Are Friends Electric" synth/guitar stabs. Seemingly out of nowhere, he switches to pastoral acoustics before falling back into quirky synth pop.
Similarly, Linda's Head switches between dreamy psych-folk choruses and swaggering, propulsive verses with a fantastically "That'll do" guitar solo tossed off in the middle.
One of the standouts, Gorgeous George is, fittingly, a gorgeous ballad albeit one directed at a wrestler and featuring the line "The cat's in the bag and the bag is in the river". Rumbling surf guitar and swaying strings back Haines distinctive sneering croon, and it is a melody anyone would be proud of. Haines voice is often underrated but few people could sing his songs and pull them off.
The real heart of the album, of course, is penultimate track We Are Unusual Men - a statement no one is likely to argue with. This track sums up the album, with swings into synth pop in the chorus before a passage of sampled wrestling dialogue sure to mist the eyes of anyone who watched it all first time around leads into a reprise of Gorgeous George. The Plumber, mentioned earlier in a brief spoken track, re enters proceedings, and it all falls into place - maybe it'll fall into place for you earlier, I can be quite slow at these things. Haines really has written his Rock Opera in Key Of Existential Misery. More than that, he has written his Melody Nelson - and it just happens to be about 70s wrestlers.
We Are Unusual Men is, in its own way, highly nostalgic, looking back to a time of less choice where people had to make an effort to connect with each other. Sadly, a handful of TOTP appearances aside with Auteurs and Black Box Recorder, the great British public in their infinite stupidity have largely ignored Luke Haines work. Typical, really - he is that most British of songwriters, speaking a language of pop culture references and neighbours wall overheard gossip. He is not as cold as they'd have you believe - this is a deeply emotional album but not one full of infantilised soulfulness and self pitying wallowing. This is emotion concealed by a sense of reserve, a self deprecating smile with quiet desperation in it.
He's very British, yes, but far from an idiotic, twee tea and crumpet caricature or Little Englander. Instead of looking back to the days when Ray Davies was a lad and celebrating the inarticulate grunts of indie lads where sincerity, passion and intelligence are unthinkable crimes, we should be celebrating him. He's one of the best we've got - especially if you like your pop melodies with a side of barbed wit.
Big Daddy Got A Casio VL Tone is probably the best example of the musical perversity onshow here, with an intro akin to The Fall's Man Whose Head Expanded giving way to synthesized flutes and "Are Friends Electric" synth/guitar stabs. Seemingly out of nowhere, he switches to pastoral acoustics before falling back into quirky synth pop.
Similarly, Linda's Head switches between dreamy psych-folk choruses and swaggering, propulsive verses with a fantastically "That'll do" guitar solo tossed off in the middle.
One of the standouts, Gorgeous George is, fittingly, a gorgeous ballad albeit one directed at a wrestler and featuring the line "The cat's in the bag and the bag is in the river". Rumbling surf guitar and swaying strings back Haines distinctive sneering croon, and it is a melody anyone would be proud of. Haines voice is often underrated but few people could sing his songs and pull them off.
The real heart of the album, of course, is penultimate track We Are Unusual Men - a statement no one is likely to argue with. This track sums up the album, with swings into synth pop in the chorus before a passage of sampled wrestling dialogue sure to mist the eyes of anyone who watched it all first time around leads into a reprise of Gorgeous George. The Plumber, mentioned earlier in a brief spoken track, re enters proceedings, and it all falls into place - maybe it'll fall into place for you earlier, I can be quite slow at these things. Haines really has written his Rock Opera in Key Of Existential Misery. More than that, he has written his Melody Nelson - and it just happens to be about 70s wrestlers.
We Are Unusual Men is, in its own way, highly nostalgic, looking back to a time of less choice where people had to make an effort to connect with each other. Sadly, a handful of TOTP appearances aside with Auteurs and Black Box Recorder, the great British public in their infinite stupidity have largely ignored Luke Haines work. Typical, really - he is that most British of songwriters, speaking a language of pop culture references and neighbours wall overheard gossip. He is not as cold as they'd have you believe - this is a deeply emotional album but not one full of infantilised soulfulness and self pitying wallowing. This is emotion concealed by a sense of reserve, a self deprecating smile with quiet desperation in it.
He's very British, yes, but far from an idiotic, twee tea and crumpet caricature or Little Englander. Instead of looking back to the days when Ray Davies was a lad and celebrating the inarticulate grunts of indie lads where sincerity, passion and intelligence are unthinkable crimes, we should be celebrating him. He's one of the best we've got - especially if you like your pop melodies with a side of barbed wit.
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