There’s a fine line between sleight of hand and slight of mind. PC MUNOZ messes you up by skipping all over it. He picks up the tokens of urban hip hop cool and waves them gently about, politely refusing categorisation or genre entrenchment. Damn cheek, he even has JACKSON BROWNE singing in a chorus on opening track “California”: said tune having a great pop feel and a chorus that Mr Browne can feel happy in.
MUNOZ kicks off “Brunching Britney and the Homeboy” with vocoder that makes him sound satirical and launches into one of those vacu-soap relationship stories that only Urban Pop Music can get serious about. It isn’t CRAIG DAVID scale annoying – but the risk is taken. What saves it, shakes it and makes it a success is the infectiously tuneful treatment. Light, but frothy. Radio One could use some of this stuff.
“Portrait” flirts with boy band sludgeorama. “I Didn’t Steal Anything” could be Bart Simpson getting cute with FUN LOVIN' CRIMINALS. Catchy, but maybe not as witty as it should be. “Clean” is sub-PRINCE machismo masochism in a gentle way. Safe sex. (Dr Fink's keyboard shows up on "Deathbed")
The purring-voiced chat-through lines continue into “Small Map”, a musical equivalent of that printed shortcut to rejection that says “if I asked you … would you say yes?” And so it continues. Gentle tracks with insinuating lyrics and emotional alienation flow on to the end. In the end more easy listening electro-fused jazz than hip hop. But very distinctive and very appealing.
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“She Gave Me a Bit of Heaven” could be CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN gone country-ska. Really sweet. “She gave me a piece of heaven / But I hope she goes to Hell” sing those cowboys. Yee Hah. Chu’ka. With lovely Hammond, tinkly piano and CHET ATKINS-style guitar.
“Fight Me” has gospel choir (nearly) and preacher voice (almost). Damn it double, the record starts to grow on me. So much art, so little depth. So much pleasure, so little provocation. Final track “The Passing of Time” is a big acoustic guitar ballad underneath the sharp jacket and shades. The tune is hidden with spoken delivery – but the tune is there and the rolling guitar picks up decoration as it goes. Derek Lassiter sings a sweet chorus.
So don’t expect too much. Just sit back and let it creep up gently. There’s an understated strength here that sounds almost too light for its own good.
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