You have to love a record that makes you reconsider its chosen genre half a dozen times within the first minute of the first song, don’t you? Not that genres are that important but there is something slightly disconcerting about a sound so slippery, so fluid, and so changeable that it is difficult to grasp from a journalistic point. But then again, I guess that is the point and experience that has shown that such music is the most fun to write about anyway.
Touché, Pussycat! drops us into this strange sonic world, a blend of full-on rock grunt and more palatable neo-soul groove, but with the two bleeding into each other so much it seems to come across as a schizophrenic sound clash, half seventies psychedelia, half acid pop and half proggy Avant-gardening. (No, I can’t make the maths work out either!)
Birdbones and Feathers is the latest single and it feels like the soundtrack to a grainy, soft porn movie slick, soulful, subversive, both the product of an elaborate in-joke and some of the finest and most creative cross-genre grooving you have ever experienced. German Chocolate Kake is a clash of early punk and Krautrock drives and The Whipping Boy is odd and futuristic, offbeat and beguiling, occasionally feeling like the Rat Pack in space.
The fact that no two tracks found here feel like they should be on the same album, yet at the same time feel perfectly at home and that they could all only be the product of the same mind, is both off-putting and brilliant. But then who wants music to be predictable, second guessable, conformist…safe. Well, loads of people actually, but just because there are more of them, doesn’t make them right.