I recently rescued his debut album The Imposter from a charity shop-bound bag for a further listen, which makes me wonder how many other albums I’ve hastily dispatched to eternal obscurity.
Sarakula sparks up the band with the immensely hummable, radio-friendly They Can’t Catch Me, a 60s-tinged romp that would be acceptable to sing on the tube with dozens of bored commuters around you. Some middling, attention-grabbing tracks follow before we he hit upon Northern Soul. A desire, a wish, a statement of intent? Whatever, it’s a great single, the type that would once sneak in via the backdoor onto the radio stations perpetuated by Smashie and Nicie types.
Then there’s Chelsea Gun, a beautiful, languid effort that sounds like Beck doing Tom Verlaine. It’s typical of the route the Australian is taking … adopting the avant-garde-ish style of the likes of Beck and Erland Oye, but delving in soul and r’n’b and owing odds to mainstream popstars. He’s recorded this in Sydney, London and Berlin and the travel triangle seems to rub off.
In some ways The Imposter is a wrapped-up five Francs bargain bin pick’n’mix, there’s something for everyone, but in dipping for the cheap goodies you’re bound to get something that might be best ditching at Save The Children. You’ll hear this in Happy Alone. Surely we don’t need anymore impressions of the Style Council?!