Description
The fervour around that Michael O’Shea record is reaching fever pitch round these parts (relatively speaking obvs), to such an extent it’s put the Stano record in the shade somewhat. But don’t let this compelling document of Irish post-punk brilliance pass you by. O’Shea turns up here, too, lending a hand to Stano’s sideways take on Roxy glam otherness, which is supple, shifting and, at times, pretty bloody avant. You think you’ve heard all the music. You hear something like this, so comfortable in its oddness and innovation, you’re immediately back to zero, wondering about new possibles. Mega.
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