Published September 2, 2011
The opening tracks of this fine, strange album—‘Innsigling’ and ‘Leggir’—set up this LP as one containing the best doomy-blues songs that Nick Cave only wishes that he could have waved at as it passed his stupid, goth-y big head, gazing at a reflection of a Captain Beefheart album in a river. Yeah, of blood, obviously. Which makes it all the more satisfyingly odd when a load of ‘50s doo-wop crops up immediately afterwards. And then rock and roll, ‘50s and ‘70s style, a hint of funk here and there with lasses/kids shadowing the main vocal with distinctly creepy effect on ‘Rokkabillíbúgívúgíblús’—a track which wouldn’t sound out of place on a Roogalator album.
You don’t have to like this because it’s a bit strange (though it is, in many ways both good and probably bad for you) and please don’t listen to it ironically (you’re not from Camden, thank fuck). Just whack the album on and get boogying like the man says. Why the fuck not?
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