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Matt Berry returns, this time emerging from his velvet time machine with a suitcase full of pop psychedelia worthy of a light show and some very stiff drinks, and you are but a wide-eyed innocent allowed to hang out at his groovy pad.
Geordie makes good use of a voice that's as smooth as silk and a delivery that promises the utmost reliability, but it's not making a discernible effort to distract from the wonderful glitchiness and complication that hides in the background.
Washes of sound surround you as half-heard vocals intertwine with half-remembered melodies.
Hard to believe how affordable advanced lighting for your basement disco warren has become — you can transform the small room into a raging den of chill and/or libido, simply by purchasing a couple hundred dollars worth of lights and playing this.
Like many Australian things, this band is somewhat recognizable yet clearly evolved in a different context. There are many different influences interleaved, from the Caribbean to the Highlands to Eastern Europe and of course, a tinge of that Oz punk.
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