“The most fun that I ever had was the night the gypsies came to town!”. Eamon Hamilton has clearly lead a much more interesting life than I. But then that’s a given, it’s his job, he’s in a band, I’m writing about it. I know my place. But even by those standards, considering his previously established eccentricities, this record is extreme, showcasing a lunatic unleashed amid music. As keyboard-tinkler/beat-buffoon/general-spare-part in British Sea Power he established himself as a sturdy subsidiary, a reliable understudy that always stayed on the bench if you like. Here though he proves himself to be not only a definitive frontman, a creative wit without ever seeming desperate, but also a capable songwriter who makes it possible for quirks and quality to coexist under the same roof. It is a very daft, undeniably goofy record, don’t get us wrong, but there is something satisfyingly earthy about it too.
The two singles that preceded this full length offering may prep you for the experience these 16 tracks and 28 succinct minutes bring, but they certainly don’t give away the plot. ‘Pick Up The Phone’ was first of all a 30 second psycho grubby-punk bark with dribble on its chin imploring us to indeed pick up the phone, and ‘All Night Disco Party’ is ‘Common People’ reworked by Kraftwerk stolen by ‘Blood Sugar Sex Magik’ era Red Hot Chili Peppers. And thus a bit of a riot. And as random an impression as those 2 songs might give, we were not expecting the adhesive that binds all these songs to be a quaint American roots-country inflection.
‘You’re So Pretty’ is pre-Flaming Lips alt-pop territory. ‘NY Pie’ is old pop standard ‘Oh Boy!’ performed by George Formby. ‘Jackson’ feels frankly bluegrass and is chocker of appropriate whooping. ‘What’s In It For Me’ is the Buzzcocks back catalogue performed as a John Cleese silly walk. ‘Comma Comma Full Stop’ is even shorter than ‘Pick Up the Phone’ And ‘Sometimes Always’, with backing vox from The Pippettes, sounds like The Delgados freewheeling through Motown with Buddy Holly on the handlebars. It’s possibly the best pop song we’ve heard all year. And at 2 minutes 30 seconds it’s a bit of an epic too. Somewhere, possibly right now, there will be a scientist scooping Brakes into a Petri dish for cataloguing and posterity. Truly a bit unique.