pop rock

An Exercise In Discreet Sophistication

Robert Cochrane — Wed, 26 Feb 2025 23:45:50 +0000

An Exercise In Discreet Sophistication Robert Cochrane February 26, 2025 - 18:45

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Perry Blake: Death Of A Society Girl (Moochin' About)

There's an elemental European air to Perry Blake, a songwriter who transcends the limitations of geography and perception. Though Irish, he could be French, where indeed he commands cult status. His songs are subtle, refined, and timeless. It is tasteful, like a cascade of warm velvet and cool silk, without alienating the listener. Elements preside of David Sylvian and a restrained inflection of Bowie, but without the histrionics. Languidly precise, he has plowed an individualistic path, a secret that should be more widely shared. With the release of Death Of A Society Girl, he may finally garner the attention his work so achingly deserves. Blake has written songs for the late Francoise Hardy and, in the past thirty years, become a touchstone artist whose refined maladies wander gently into the ear and tug gently at the heart.

"Requiem" is the perfect introduction to the uninitiated, reassuring the faithful. As languid as it is engaging. This intimates a journey of subtle delights. Restrained by an easy elegance, it suggests Scott Walker on a Sunday afternoon of fog and blurred sunshine. With "One Of These Days," delicate piano notes swish and sway over a hand-clap series of beats. It could be an out-take from Bowie's Lodger album. But stems perfectly from the interior world of Mr Blake. There's an eerie, almost operatic female vocal ghosting the proceedings, and the song drifts away on a small river of strings.

"If it's not broken, I'll break it.

That's just what I do.

If it's not real, then I'll fake it.

Just like you. Just like you"

These lyrics reveal a dark awareness of the soul, especially his own.

"Nobody's Child" sways, glides, and resolves upon a hauntingly beautiful violin line that dances over gentle stabs of piano. As late night as it can respectably be, this is a song with moments of Tin Drum by Japan that winds like a reptile waiting to strike. In "Song Of The Wind," there's a sense of a slow rolling train on a track of beguiling strings and neat acoustic guitar. Blake's voice has a warm resonance that draws the proceedings along.

"They don't seem to notice.

They don't seem to mind.

They don't seem to know

That they were less than kind."

"Let's Fall In Love" presents a louche plea of longing, but with epic proportions beating at its heart's core. A concise piece of ear candy, it builds and glows like an ember that never quite ignites, which is all part of its discretion of charm. Oriental folksiness pervades "Concertina" like a madrigal of sighs this sophisticated jewel casts a strange reflection in the soul of the listener. Deceptively effortless, here belies an inherent craft and beauty that wanders off into a mysterious distance. If you could make a road movie on a pagoda, this would be your soundtrack.

"Rules Of Love" delivers the swerve and masquerade of a perfect pop song in the restraint of its commercial conceit. As neat a summer radio accompaniment as a wish could require. this is simply sublime; a stream of strings and light splashes of piano creates a sense of past evenings.

"Death Of A Society Girl," the album's trailer single, again ghosts Bowie in a vocal that is effortlessly underplayed. The well-known actor Paul McGann (Withnail & I, Empire of the Sun, Alien 3) handles the spoken-word section. There's a burgeoning rise within the melody that never bursts forth, held in place by a spoken word aspect akin to stolen diary entries. Like rain through the moonlight, a quiet brilliance of confection.

Farewell arrives in the form of the brooding "Hummingbirds." A neat goodbye, sad but rather joyous, is Blake at his assuredly deceptive but assertively artistic best. Unshowy but latently powerful, the subdued beauty holds the song in a place like frozen lace.

"Maybe that is why these birds fly solo

Far away from land.

Far away from earthly sorrow.

Far away from man."

This work deserves a wide audience and should find one, but it remains to be seen in our unfair world. If you wish to steal some moments with an artist at the height of his understated powers, this is the ticket you require. Rarely has sophistication seemed so effortless. Refinement takes effort and time like fine wine, but you can't see it. It merely becomes evident when one is privy to the experience.

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Less Is More, If You Know The Score

Robert Cochrane — Sun, 04 Aug 2024 23:02:57 +0000

Less Is More, If You Know The Score Robert Cochrane August 4, 2024 - 19:02

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JOHN HOWARD: Currently/I Am Not Gone

We listen to music differently these days, a subtle change in our appreciation having transpired via the largely invisible digital revolution. Once, and not so long upon the time ago, you'd catch a song on the radio, or hear a record at a friend's, and a quest would evolve. A visit to a record store, and then another, if the first hadn't the album or single that you sought. You might even order it and wait, returning to squire home your purchase to play it again, and again, and again.

I'm not saying that people don't still seek to find, but we have lost the thrill of the chase, the fine art of waiting having flown, we suffer the absence of anticipation. We now click and listen, a more disposable relationship is formed with a song on a screen, phone or tablet. The thrill of the chase, that need to find and own something that was always inherently ephemeral, has been diminished by everything being a mere search, swipe, or tap away.

Quintessentially English singer-songwriter John Howard's new single "Currently" c/w "I Am Not Gone" belongs to the days of record shops with listening booths, when shiny black plastic records were the format that reigned. In those days it would likely have been a Double A-Side, whence both songs were deemed equally relevant and fine, and such is the case with this fetching brace of offerings. They reveal a diligent artist at home with his gifts, possessing a deceptive effortlessness without ever seeming clever or contrived. Nifty and refined, they have a lingering catchiness, a thread of hooks that ensnare the mind.

"Currently" is as mini-baroque and chamber masterpiece laden with deceptive eloquence. Elements pervade of early Al Stewart or Cat Stevens and their bedsitter maladies, with melancholy shades of The Beatles and The Zombies, but with a dash of The Left Banke's classicism. "I Am Not Gone" has a flippant skip in it's step harking back to a Saturday afternoon on Carnaby Street. Laconic, with an effortless air that conceals the subtle songcraft within. At two minutes and fourteen seconds it delivers with the subtlety of a wistful kiss that immediately fades before you realise it has been delivered. The song could be a lost remnant from Keith Wast's successful but ill-fated "Except From A Teenage Opera."

John Howard has seen a remarkable renaissance in the past twenty years, after as many decades of stalled creativity. He belongs to a host of neglected once, but gradually respected piano men, Bill Fay and Jobriath spring to mind, who were ignored in the days that were supposed to belong to them, but who've a much greater relevance in the here that we call now.

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Song of the Week: "Therapy Couch"

Dusty Wright — Fri, 04 Aug 2023 14:00:00 +0000

Song of the Week: "Therapy Couch" Dusty Wright August 4, 2023 - 10:00

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Life's a song worth singing for the Nashville-based quartet Flight Attendant -- comprised of Karalyne Winegarner (Lead Vocals, Keys), Vinny Maniscalco (Vocals, Guitar), Nikki Christie (Vocals, Viola), and Derek Sprague (Drums). Their dynamic new single "Therapy Couch" infects your senses with perfect pop rock stabs blended with perky synth rock blips; think St. Vincent meets tUnE-yArDs. This song will bounce around your noggin like a heady brew of bubbling neo-bubblegum rock that will make you grin, a grin that suggests an unyielding intelligence, like, "I'm in on the joke". Come to think of it... didn't Brian Wilson attempt do that with his music for his aborted Smile sessions?

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A Digital Resurrection

Robert Cochrane — Sat, 22 Jul 2023 17:14:34 +0000

A Digital Resurrection Robert Cochrane July 22, 2023 - 13:14

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PETER GODWIN: Correspondence (Digital Release)

What becomes an exemplar of its time is often reliant upon those arbiters of memory and availability. Long out of print but awash with the swagger and guise of the early eighties, Peter Godwin's superlative Correspondence remains a sublime confection, swish, accomplished and perfectly mannered, it has long been a gaudy secret passed from hand to hand by those who care and share unknown pleasures.

Dressed in a Neville Brody sleevewhich features Mr Godwin staring forth in beatific wonderment, a perfect indication of all that lies within. It is an album that perfectly represents the production values of the time, without becoming subsumed by them. A notable feat achieved on account of the potency of the songcraft and the deftly accomplished desk duties of George Kajanus (Sailor/Eclection). It throbs with ambition and a sense of near perfection.

Godwin had been a member of the Glam/New Wave combo Metro whose "Criminal World" about ambivalent sexual nuances was banned by the BBC, only to be covered on "Let's Dance" Bowie's massive breakthrough collection. Metro made three excellent albums, but suffered from each appearing on different labels. Their single "America In My Head" remains a near perfect art-pop moment.

Proceedings kick-start with the dizzying resolute "Baby's In the Mountains" which neatly frames Godwin's deliciously nonchalant vocals. It sounds now like a rallying cry to romantic environmentalists, but with a sucker earworm hook that belies an epic conceit.

"Baby's in the mountains - the air is cleaner there

Baby's in the mountains she's gonna think it out

Baby's in the mountains - of course she's higher there

Baby's in the mountains - she's gonna work it out

And think about the future"

This sassy masterpiece that perfectly strides into the "The Art Of Love" all languid longing until Carol Kenyon soars above the proceedings like an operatic diva with her soul on fire. Think a soul-fuelled Blondie a la "Rapture" a reference which is additionally echoed by Godwin's dead-pan spoken section, a neat touch that is both dry and exquisite with a darkly edged lyric at odds to the innocence of the title

"There's the art of love - the art of love

The whores all kiss the boys

The angels watch them die from above"

Near calypso elements burst into life via "Window Shopping" a slab of catchy, infectious pop-funk that is awaiting its close-up in a ritzy commercial. Some musical moments deserve their day of modern plunder. A Sade-like louche-ness inhabits "Soul To Soul," a lazily, perfectly arch moment of effortless chic, deceptive eloquence at its best.

"Young Pleasure" has the evocative lilt of a hymn. Stirring and perfect it allows Godwin's assured but understated delivery to build and throb. His voice has a plaintive pull imbued with shadows of sophistry. "The Dancer" is the single that wasn't. All deft licks and turns it strides along with the eloquence and elegance of a catwalk anthem. Lights! Camera! Action! An electro-funk Dire Straits with a sense of humour and a tongue in its chic. "Correspondence" suits its title track prominence, a soothingly slick soundtrack piece. There is a widescreen filmic edge to the broodingly moody "Over Twenty-One" -- an epic in restraint it sweeps and swirls with a noir-like sensibility. With "Soul Of Love" Godwin sounds like a world-weary chorister. Achingly sad it also possesses a profoundly moving lyric which suggests Japan at all their moody, melancholia.

"What I'm living for

What my heart adores

The soul of love

And I know once more

What I'm dying for

The soul of love"

Correspondence is celebrating its fortieth birthday via this digital availability. It is only a click away. A strange return to a grave new place of change. Quality always survives eventually, but it is reassuring that this respected, neglected gem is again shining outwards to reward, refresh and soothe. Peter Godwin's new project is Re/Generation with the perfect muse in the form of Leah Lane of Rosegarden Funeral Party. Watch this space now that you've been alerted, but for now enjoy the eloquence of a belated correspondence or perhaps savour the joy of an old one worthy of renewal.

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Song of the Week: "Alameda"

Dusty Wright — Fri, 07 Apr 2023 14:00:00 +0000

Song of the Week: "Alameda" Dusty Wright April 7, 2023 - 10:00

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Last time I listened to NY/LA-based singer/songwriter Anna Rose she was invigorating the blues-rock genre. Well, what is this? She's now transformed herself into a pop-rock juggernaut with her new concept album Last Girl of the Rodeo and this powerfully uplifting single “Alameda." Ms. Rose always possessed a "big" voice, but on this song one really gets to hear it lift and flow at its glorious best — naturally showing off her full dynamic range of vocal control in the process. To my ears, she's ingested Lana Del Ray and Billie Eilish and their low-key subtle vocal approach to pop-rock and pushed it to 11! Think Brandi Carlile's "The Joke." A tremendous and worthy song for 2023 "best of" playlists.

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Modesty In Epic Guise

Robert Cochrane — Mon, 20 Jun 2022 14:28:47 +0000

Modesty In Epic Guise Robert Cochrane June 20, 2022 - 10:28

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OLIVIER ROCABOIS - The Pleasure Is Goldmine (All If Music)

With his 2021 solo debut Olivier Rocabois Goes Too Far the man whose name appears in the title introduced his gaudy vision to the world. Astonishingly accomplished and eloquent, it remains an album deserving of wider discovery by many more souls than those who already have enjoyed the wealth of its artistry.

As a bridge to future sighs he has now delivered The Pleasure Is Goldmine a glittering selection of his choral baroque sensibility. Brian Wilson surfs the stars with Bowie as McCartney oversees their celestial journey. This French maverick, entirely self taught on the piano has talent to burn and spare

"Watch The Seasons Come And Go" is a melancholy ballad that echoes the late Jobriath vocally and on piano flourishes of elongated chords. A plaintive sequence of postcard thoughts, it builds and soars with a casual jauntiness of tone suggestive of Paul McCartney meets Jellyfish.

"I want to spend my life with you.

Take you into my arms every morning.

When the sun comes up and till the sun beats down"

A wish one can only hope that has been cemented by this elegant song.

"I'd Like To Make My Exit With Panache" has a vibe of early Steely Dan, full of of confident airiness it reminds me of that other graduate from Sixties baroque and roll, Manchester's adopted American son. B.C Camplight, a boy on whom piano lessons were far from squandered.

There's a subtle psych vibe suggestive of The Left Banke to "New Years's Crazy Ego's" -- a moody masterpiece that despite the scale of its ambition, never falls over itself. Shades of Queen tango with E.L.O to create a confection of sheer luxury and delight. A mini opera with undertones of The Zombies, John Howard, who has collaborated with Rocabois, and early RCA David Bowie. Beautifully spacey at the end. An epic beyond epic and brazenly ambitious.

Like a chorister Bowie in cahoots with Peter Gabriel "Brain Cells" has an ethnic tryst, a mesmerizing prayer-like elegance, all too brief but perfectly formed.

"I Would Have Loved To Love You" is a majestic but restrained symphony of aching wishfulness. Lavishly constructed it has a variety of shade and tone, slinking and slithering along, festooned with a choral eloquence. An epic with heaven in its sights it pulsates to an eerie silence at the end.

"My nervous system is falling to pieces.

One too many arguments.

I'm living for a better life

I'm leaving for the second time"

Hope in a twisted tryst of reality and despair.

This is an EP that delivers the satisfaction of an album in five tracks, an alluring indication of what one can anticipate from the next outing from this wonderfully talented maestro. Olivier Rocabois wears his influences with pride but they never consume him since he makes them entirely his own. Clever without ever sounding smart-ass, he is that rare thing in the modern world, a genuine soul with grand ideas and the ability to deliver them with room to spare.

He may have invented a niche for himself in the form of Glam Baroque. Ignore at your peril for fear of missing out on something magical, something splendid, something simply grand.

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A History Contained

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 07 Jan 2022 18:28:40 +0000

A History Contained Robert Cochrane January 7, 2022 - 13:28

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Tim Arnold: Maybe Magic (TA Music)

All creative enterprises pertain to an aspect of diary keeping, a concept of remembrance. Maybe Magic is Tim Arnold's second response to the isolation of lockdown and he has utilised the time upon his hands with remarkable aplomb via a collection of songs that are both meditations and the expressive evidence of that process. A thing of beautiful indulgence, a series of reference points, shared and distilled as a gift for others to enjoy.

The springboard for these songs was the revival of his fascination with the guitar tunings of American guitarist, the late Michael Hedges whose techniques proved a source of inspiration combined with a sense of bedevilment.

Complex and freeing, what emerges is a soaring beauty, deceptive in its apparent simplicity, a mixture of Pink Moon Nick Drake and Hunky Dory David Bowie, as a myriad of other reference points lay their claim on the album's fleeting reflections.

Proceedings begin with the infectious "Guides" a spirited litany of influences, and one we should all attempt to annotate. A burst of joy, its cavalcade of characters from Yoko Ono to Quentin Crisp, Lenny Bruce to Virginia Woolf; a veritable confetti of names.

"They are turning into me

And I am turning into you"

An inspired outburst of acknowledgement.

"The Spectrum Of Life" is a loose blues meander akin to Beck's sublime "Loser" in tango with "The Age Of Aquarius" from the rock musical Hair. It has a hypnotic mantra-like aspect. The instrumental "Hypnogogic Logic" cascades like water over sunlit stones, a beguiling and soothing piece where the music does the talking.

"Dream In Tight" is a quiet anthem reaching upwards whilst being suggestive of gospel choirs, it requires none to deliver its message of striving and desire for a companionship of souls.

"It's starting to sound familiar

But altogether entirely new

The will that wants to thrill you

Is driving everything I do"

With "Shine Your Light" there resides elements of Fleetwood Mac's early masterpiece of introspection "Man Of The World," a confessional aspect imbued with a reflective honesty, both a confirmation of reality and a positive spark of hope.

"You might hear craziness spoken up and under

Of the amazing mess we made of this world

But there's still wonder"

"Brighter Squared" possesses an inherent looseness it seems to be falling apart as it meanders into life as conversational intimacy suggestive of a chorister who already knows too much. a wisdom in excess of tender years.

"Light shines brighter squared

I'm trying hard to get it into my head"

"Catch That Flame" contains a contemplation of dissidence and difference, of breathing to be, cushioned by a bed of sensual guitar, reminiscent of Tin Drum by Japan.

"We wonder why others are so different

We never ask why we are the same"

There's a jauntiness of Suzanne Vega and Tracy Chapman in "Opening Doors," a contrivance of philosophy in a subtle and commercial radio friendly song. A conspiracy of neatness.

"Most of my life I've fallen through

Opening doors. They show without warning

They're for you but no sign they're yours"

A perfect closer emerges in the restrained epic "Questioning Answers" which has an almost prog-like vastness, it simmers, grows and burns like a collision between Dream Academy and early Yes. The closing lines, a perfect parting shot.

"But I'm tired of asking questions

So I'm questioning answers now"

This remarkable collection captures three intense weeks in the creative life of an artist who was working alone without an audience in mind. It is an aural patchwork, a stitching together of random elements that are far from random, once combined. It also marks Tim Arnold's return to painting, a gift he abandoned almost three decades ago to follow his dream of becoming a rock star. Some talents in their latency, simply sleep, and the cover of the album, a cat with wings emerging from a box against background of gold and deep blues, suggesting his collaborator Lindsay Kemp returned in white feline form.

The entire collection is steeped in "Discordianism," the concept that order and disorder are ideas the human nervous system imposes upon the universe. The collection's title comes from Robert Anton Wilson. A near perfect distillation of moments that remain thus contained in the confection now labelled Maybe Magic.

Listen to Maybe Magic here: https://lnk.to/maybemagic

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Song of the Week: "Down Below or Up Above"

Dusty Wright — Fri, 17 Dec 2021 23:01:46 +0000

Song of the Week: "Down Below or Up Above" Dusty Wright December 17, 2021 - 18:01

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NYC-based pop-meister Blake Morgan's "Down Below Or Up Above" from the forthcoming Violent Delights (ECR Music Group) album, is a piece of pop-rock noir, a much-need antidote to the latest Covid variant blues. Like an audio, and with a very cool video, homage to Dashiell Hammet. After the Thin Man, savoir faire, indeed. The video was directed by the "boundary-breaking" NYC filmmaker/photographer Alice Teeple. Need to see him live, says I, so don't miss the double bill with my friend, LA-based singer/songwriter David Poe at Rockwood Music Hall March 24th and 26th, 2022. Should make for one wonderful winter night's tale.

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Twenty-First Century Man

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 14 May 2021 15:08:03 +0000

Twenty-First Century Man Robert Cochrane May 14, 2021 - 11:08

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John Howard: Collected (Kool Kat Music)

Thirty-eight tracks would sum up most careers, an entirety; pop being studiously ephemeral. In the case of English singer-songwriter John Howard, that only scrapes the surface of an incredible outpouring of refinement, astute song-craft, and good grace.

A particularly English late contender of the "Glam" period, he was a northern boy with bright ideas and talent aplenty. An elegantly suited maverick his debut album Kid In A Big World recorded at Abbey Road, made enough of a splash, full page music press adverts, and respectable sales. A bright future seemed guaranteed, but fate often wears an unpredictable aspect.

Unlike his American contemporary, Jobriath, John Howard wasn't stirring any cause, he was simply being himself, something that in those days came at a hefty price. His majestic debut single "Goodbye Suzie," an appropriate opener to this double disc set, concerned itself with a girl who takes her own life. Deemed too depressing by a power to be reckoned with at the BBC, then a perfect kiss of commercial death, it sank in a traceless fashion.

The same fate befell its successor "Family Man" -- an uptempo commercial piece of froth that was ludicrously deemed by the same source to be "anti-women." A radio silence consumed its fighting chances. Only in this century was John Howard learned that his nemesis was a closeted gay man who had no interest in promoting his songs in case it resulted in guilt by association.

After various label management twists he found his career marooned by circumstance. Two albums went unreleased, one produced by Biddu, and he was dropped. He soldiered on with various singles until in the early '80s he threw in the towel despite being produced by the now legendary Trevor Horn. He became an A&R man at MCA Records.

It was only with the re-issue of Kid In A Big World in 2003 that the music press began to recognize a missing link to Glam. A fedora wearing Jimmy Webb with shades of Bowie and Noel Coward. Since then he has managed a dazzling revival via a gaudy confetti of albums, at least one a year, whilst remaining a well kept secret, a by word for quality and lyrical concision.

Edward Rogers via this sensitively compiled selection has become an expert of Howard's endings, beginnings and the rest. Some tracks have never even seen their place reserved on compact disc before. It is the perfect introduction to a talent that is ludicrously undervalued, but presents an introduction, especially in America, where his albums have only been previously available as expensive imports. John Howard is officially no longer an American virgin.

There are wonderful cover versions from Bill Fay's languid "Be Not So Fearful" to a laconicly effortless rendering of Roddie Frame's "Small World," apparently a demo but a take requiring nothing more at all. His nod and glittering eyelashed wink to Glam arrives in the bejewelled form of "Dear Glitterheart" and a paean of remembrance to his fallen piano comtemporary Jobraith in "Stardust Falling." If you like unfussy elegance with a dash of baroque and roll you need quest no further. "Injuries Sustained In Surviving" exudes the church-like moodiness of David Ackles whilst "Favourite Chair" is a psychedelic delicacy.

A delightfully palm court feel swishes through like a sun-edged breeze "Maybe Someday In Miami" and "These Fifty Years" is a directly honest surmising of a career that has never gone according to plan.

John Howard remains a subject awaiting the long overdue attentions of Sunday Supplements and glossy magazines, not to mention an audience much greater than the one he presently commands. His anecdotes betray a sense of fun without any need to impress. He remains proof thet talent gifts a shortage of reward.

It can only be hoped that this perfect visiting card gets the due attention it so richly merits. Introspective without ever being self-indulgent, a wit devoid of cruelty, with an lightness of touch that is both expansive and precise, this should be a listener's beginning to a long, endlessly rewarding, adventure.

Cool and most definitely, collected.

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John Howard "Collected" CD

Thank you Robert for the well-thought out review of "Collected" For those who still prefer physical product, CDs of "Collected" are available via John's website and here:

https://tinyurl.com/3h5vujkk

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Baroque Mastery Sublime

Robert Cochrane — Fri, 02 Apr 2021 13:19:27 +0000

Baroque Mastery Sublime Robert Cochrane April 2, 2021 - 09:19

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OLIVIER ROCABOIS: Olivier Rocabois Goes To Far (Acoustic Kitty/Kuraneko/Differ-Ant)

An assured and rich selection of texture and tonal majesty Olivier Rocabois Goes Too Far is that rare slice of authenticity in an increasingly synthetic world. Quietly elegant, it skims and slides with effortless aplomb to herald a man at the height of his abilities. Never showy for the sake of being so, it unfolds like an opening bloom which will improve the mood and caresses the senses of the listener with repeated plays. A series of deft touches brings each song to the level of some soulfully baroque street-side opera.

Blessed with concision and refined flourishes the album has a strange quality, poised, refined but never florid. Understatement in slow overdrive, and a tremendous array of deftly sensitive musicianship.

"The Sound Of The Waves" reveals itself as a perfect opener. Think Steely Dan in Aja period style with a mostly sixties Bowie vocal soaring towards the future that would be "Wild Is The Wind." The piece concludes in a delightful instrumental motif, like a soundtrack for an unmade movie. "High As High" evokes Paul McCartney at his jaunty and up-tempo best, replete with lavishly louche nonchalant drums from Guillaume Glain.

Swish and assured "In My Drunken Dreamscape" ebbs and flows like an arriving and exiting tide. Donald Fagen in cahoots with The Left Banke underscored with a catchy classicism it grows to a cacophony reminiscent of early Genesis before resolving itself with piping brass and Beach Boys backing vocals. Mannered and refined. A psych-pop mini operetta unveils itself in "Arise Sir Richard" with a Fab Four like underscored beat this surfs into the mind with a Brian Wilson-like ease and a harpsichord that reminiscent of that wonderful pop maverick B.C. Camplight.

The cascading vocal and piano intro of "Tonight I Need," so gentle its gossamer-like transience it could be lifted from a musical score discovered in a burnt out library, is a haunting gem. Rocabois is deftly assisted by English singer-songwriter John Howard in vocal harmonies that are nothing short of exquisite. Over all too soon, it simply demands to be played again, and then again. "Let Me Laugh Like A Drunk Witch" builds to a brooding epic with an element of underscored menace with elements of a song that has escaped from a Broadway musical melodrama.

There's a choral sophistication to the occasionally casual "Hometown Boys," his toy-town symphony of drummer-man precision, but slightly skewed, the song meanders perfectly till everything simply saunters quietly away. A pronounced glam piano intro suggestive of Queen or The Raspberries grows into a power-pop swagger in the form of "I'd Like To Make My Exit With Panache" that brings Sparks to mind in moments that are a joy to catch.

The perfect closer emerges in "My Wounds Started Healing" -- a Beatles chamber driven masterpiece, delicious strings in a tango-like swirl and swagger, several songs in the guise of one, borne off in a tremendous flourish, part pomp prog, part innate classicism.

An effort that leaves a sense of anticipation, this is a hard act to pull off, and a difficult one to follow. Rocabois is never fearful of exposing his influences since he's never in any danger of being consumed by them.

The album's title comes from an abandoned Paul McCartney project from the Sixtes. There's no such sense of abandonment here, merely one of a journey that is to be continued and replenished.