Saturday, 30 April 2016

Helter Seltzer

Marlborough Ham and North Sligo Mustard?  Maldon CM9 5WK Sea Salt and Quintuple Distilled Ardennes Red Wine Vingear?  They're fucking crisps. Get a  grip.




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?



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