CLUB SODA/ MOOGIEMAN & THE MASOCHISTS/ THE LOST ART,
All Will Be Well, Cellar, 15/4/16
Give The Lost Art a cursory listen and you’ll have them
pegged as genial buskers: technically adept, but more interested in supplying a
string of non-threatening tricks than a cohesive body of work. However, the more we listen to the duo’s
intricate compositions, the more character and variation we find, until our
notebook is covered in scrawled references. Ben Folds. Loudon Wainwright. Simon & Garfunkel. John Etheridge. Sondheim Of A Down. The lyrics might have come from a platter
self-help fortune cookies, but musically there’s loads to enjoy, especially the
way counterpoint is favoured over harmony, and their tendency to push to the
top of their vocal range giving songs a strange monastic air. That they look like two chemistry teachers
trying to make the alkaline earth metals interesting just endears them to us
more.
If The Lost Art are the Key Stage Proclaimers, Moogieman
& The Masochists resemble proper children’s entertainers, from Moogieman’s stripy
top and braces c ombo through to their micro-ditties about physics, philosophy
and photographic technique: think Rod, Jane & Freddy do a doctorate. Whilst it would be easy to label a man smug who
includes the line “Occam’s Razor is epistemologically flawed” in a song about
his tastes in totty, Moogieman has actually created something truly new in his
laboratory beaker filled with the distillate from Devo, Kraftwerk, OMD and Open
University broadcasts, and the band’s knack for an intriguing arrangement is
exemplary. Plus, cameraphile paean “Diana”
has the most glorious gallic movie melody – why start a rock riot when you can
settle down to watch Monsieur Hulot’s
Darkroom with The New Scientist?
Abingdon’s Club Soda may not remind us of kids’ TV, but
with their US jock jacket and fluffy organ-led rock linking the sounds of Huey
Lewis and Big Fun, they could well feature in a brat pack era teen comedy. If,
like us, the feeling of living a Teen
Wolf outtake doesn’t appeal, you can at least focus on the incredibly tight
rhythm section and the vocalist’s natural charm with an airy tune. And that’s what Club Soda are, really, the
sonic equivalent of a low calorie snack, that will tide you over until it’s
time for something more substantial. Plus, we’re surprised to discover that something
sounding like the baseball organist playing a Berlin album track is rather good
fun. Hey, every day’s a school day,
right?
