Dizzy?
Whether it's a turntable or a roundabout you're on, you may well raise one arm in weak acknowledgement. Stop-start go the questions, and wobble goes the falsetto as a pleading precursor to a steady and biorhythmic sound with enough about it not to realise fully what the fuck is going on where the whens and the whys are concerned.
This is pop from head to toe. A four chord tune that you will hear in fragments before anyone's had chance to pick up the pieces.
For the lyrics, the other half's side of a domestic tiff is superbly recreated and hits home on this indie soundwave with alarming accuracy.
Though the hours are divided up neatly, the cleansed and bouncing melody (the guitar sound is beautifully clear and so too the keys) jump-starts the heart as the venom spills. This is ironic, as it makes you realise that it's messier than it sounds.
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Break up? Break everything.
It’s a liberating feeling when you just don’t care anymore, but it hurts so much when you do. Both sides of this are explored and conveyed with brilliant abandon during this stirring slice of jukebox eighties-retro.
It’s more adopted Macunians, and the label is another scene-setter, baby.
And no, it's not all that different to (yawn, yawn...sludge, snooze..) - but you know what? I listened to the RECORD. It's a good 'un!
Belting record.
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