Never much rated these buggers, I must confess. Always been dubious of their aspirations and their overwhelming cheek in naming themselves after a starscraping Tim Buckley album and then daring to be so bloody underwhelming.
In more recent times, vocalist James Walsh has been spotted waxing lyrical about Dion in the pages of the loveable old NME and ver 'Sailor have been recording with Phil 'Lost The Plot' Spector, so while you can't blame the former production genius for this effort (it's down to Morrissey engineer Danton Supple), you can tell his influence has been running amok.
You want evidence? You got it as soon as "Four To The Floor" gloops its' way out of the speakers with massive drums and a glucose-pepped string arrangement gushing all over the shop. And, I admit grudgingly, it's really not all that bad. OK, so it tries far too hard to be mature and Walsh still sings like someone's inserting long, pointed objects into strategic orifices, but y'know, I don't want to shoot them for it, so they must be doing something right. Well, until that dodgy, disco percussion bit, anyway.
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So, ain't life weird. Starsailor in "reviewer not foaming in the mouth shocker" anyone? Could be. Damn sight better than that blubbery bollocks about his old man being a wino, at the very least.
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