I HATED music in the Eighties when the massed ranks of the ordinary became exalted.
When it only took being a Nick Heyward, a Glenn Medeiros, or a Rick Astley to become a star.
And this is the sound of the Eighties. But this is other Eighties - the good stuff that nudged along in the background while the teenyboppers were screaming elsewhere.
This has Talking Heads running through its veins, Johnny Marr in its sinews, Furniture in its bones and Madness in its mind. It doesn't always sound tight and polished, but its loose energy counts in its favour, and if that means it's more Undertones than U2, then all the better. This is a marvellous album - music as it should be, with passion and imagination.
Updated: 08:47 Thursday, July 15, 2004
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