It’s funny. None of their other LPs grab me. The sound’s cloying, like piers morgan holding your head under loads of little balls of saccharine, getting in your nose and ears and eyes and throat and lungs.
This album, though. Even better than being murdered by piers morgan – and I’m not sure how many albums of *that* caliber are being made nowadays.
The singles off it, ‘Do it again’ and ‘Reelin’ in the years’ take me back, for some reason.
Listening to their other albums (and I have done this) it’s like that prehistoric world before punk. Cocaine music, like a crystal ball right into the eighties. A magical land where everybody’s happy (nowadays) no-one has. a shadow side or any negative facets to their personality.
And bizarrely, this album works. Regular readers, who touch themselves inappropriately in front of this blog will already know my opinion on concepts like happiness, comfort, sex and shopping.
Standout tracks: ‘Dirty work’, a brilliantly sketched portrait of male weakness and ‘Midnight cruiser’ – I wish I’d coined the term ‘gentleman loser’. Bastards.
This album gets the scat candy seal of grudged approval. Sheer brilliance.