A classic mix of droopy sixties bedroom folk pop offcuts, stitched into a new comfort blanket; a record for staring out of windows.
Sometimes things fall through the gaps. I am a firm believer that good things do eventually find their reward; and I think that one of these days this record will find its place in the canon. Maybe its laid back vibe is so supine and Bill Fay-like, we'll have to wait 40 years. Oh well. We're hip about time.
Regardless; it's a classic mix of droopy sixties bedroom folk pop offcuts, stitched into a new comfort blanket; a record for staring out of windows. The opener, Time to Get Up is a gloriously gloopy mix of Jason Spacemen and Tim Harding. And it doesn't stop there. Without You Around is a great mix of local farmboy pop (think Melle de Boer) and Julian Cope's Fried era moping, with a lattice-like guitar pattern that has me in mind of that lovely Kinks song, Two Sisters. With the help of some weepy strings, it starts to swell out into this big ambulence chaser by the end. Oh, and the title track boasts a GLORIOUS major-minor chord change in the refrain; one that Alex Chilton would have been proud of. We're only three songs in.
And that's how things carry on. Waterfront Love floats about, seemingly lost in near space, held aloft by some floaty, Steve Lovell-style guitar lines, and I'll Cross the World nabs the Fabs' Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da bass hop, and sticks a dead eyed vocal that is as Left Bank as they come; a sort of warped Stereolab jazz number, albeit done by boozed up pals of your bad uncle. Singing Leaving is a mild-and-boogie take on the Bonzos that gets more addled by the beat; whereas Terry Sue sounds like something off the Notorious Byrd Brothers. All fine by me.
Now and again things get a bit less horizontal; A Time That Might has got this raggety Fat White Family (folk division) vibe about it; I mean it's NOT Fat Whites, of course but the song and the aforementioned band share this stomp that knows no rules. The best song on here is Cast a Spell, which is a paean to love MOST groovy, and one that somehow manages to make a stumbling hippy trundle into a thing of wonder. The sort of jewel-like, accidental mess (Nikki Sudden-style) that you can't replicate. And before we forget, Losing You is an end of the pier waltz, battery powered.
This is a great record, really is. Turn on, tune in, and drop onto your sofa.