For a start musically he builds a pretty slick tune, one which takes all the good ideas from mature pop and accessible rock — a latino groove, strong melody and intriguing lyricism as well as the occasional squalling guitar run, a thumping piano, calypso whistles and even a kooky xylophone break — and weaves them into an infectious musical boogie.
And then once you get into the lyrics you realise the analogous nature of the song, beyond its horror referencing title, it is actually about the horrors of small talk, stilted, first date chit-chat and the fact that the art of conversation may well be on its last legs. Well, thankfully music isn’t and Mr P. proves that with a bit of thought, pop can be a whole different ball game, though the lyrical subtlety may be a bit lost on the average dance floor denizen and the complex blend of musical styles might be a bit confusing for the little darlings.
So maybe we just file this alongside the works of other subtle, satirical greats such Randy Newman, siting as it does somewhere between social comment, comedy, musical score and pop for those who think creativity is still a platform for people to actually have something to say, something beyond the Bieber Book of Boring Babble which has become the norm. Lewis Papier again proves that there is room for funny and interesting dialogue in modern music, I guess we just have to sit here for a while whilst everyone else catches up. It could be a long wait but at least I’m in good company.