As much as I love a well-turned-out tune and shapely melodics, I would be the first to admit that it is subtle lyrics and supple wordplay which do it for me. Thankfully, Down With The Creeps has plenty of both, it’s just such a blend that The Flying Chaucers have built their good name and excellent reputation on. Elegant folk-pop infusions and equally eloquent lyrics? What are we waiting for?
And if on paper, this sounds like my sort of thing, as the track bursts into life, it proves to be even more so. Pop poise forged from folky blends and subdued indie jangles, brassy blasts paving the way for slick sonics and all topped off with some great poeticism. “He writes secret letters, to cold Henriettas.” Brilliant! “His lear is his trademark, he smiles like a car park,” even better.
Down With the Creeps does what it says on the tin, it is an anthem against the smooth and the slimy, the arrogant and the egotistical, the cool and the calculating. A pop paean kicking against the pricks, in the most literal sense of the phrase and a damned good tune to boot.
