Fuck me, Mark Wynn craps out albums quicker than I can play ‘em, let alone review the things. Terms like ‘prodigious’ and phrases like ‘insanely prolific’ don’t come close: the bugger makes Ryan Adams look like a lazy bastard.
Anyone who’s heard his recordings or caught one of the 850 shows he’s played in the last couple of years will know what to expect, and it’s fair to say, ‘“Last Of The Real Rock Stars Is A Stupid Phrase, I Am Way Fitter Than Billy Fury Ever Was And I Don't Care What Anyone Says” The Album’ delivers. It’s a collection of short little punk tunes played primarily on acoustic guitar with lyrics – snippy vignettes, snappy observations, curious anecdotes and recollections of non-events – scratched out in haste on the back of a fag packet or made up on the spot. Wynn’s disarming and charming, witty and honest, zany and occasionally plain weird.
‘“Last Of The Real Rock Stars Is A Stupid Phrase, I Am Way Fitter Than Billy Fury Ever Was And I Don't Care What Anyone Says” The Album’ finds Wynn exploring an increasingly lo-fi vein, as much Pavement as The Fall and John Cooper Clarke. But for all of the couldn’t-care-less toss-off, surface, the album does contain some true gems: ‘Joanna I’m Sorry I Ate Your Pizza’ sounds like Pavement’s ‘Conduit for Sale’ (which was in turn a rip of The fall’s ‘New Face in Hell’ - I suspect Mark knows this) and ‘I’m Afraid’ is a scuzzed out paranoid classic (or would be if given the chance).
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Wynn sums up the album far better than I ever could, of course: ‘Vending Machine... Pete’s hair... Fear... Bon Jovi... Pizza... Party on a roof... I can’t help it... Talking to the cat... A woman with too much make up on....’
Yes. Anyone who digs lo-fi indie and garage needs to hear this. Mark doesn’t even want your money (although I’m sure he’d not complain). But he certainly deserves 25 minutes of your time.
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