Mister Lee is standing out in the back lane, hopping from one leg to another with rain in the air and the ground strewn with rubbish and weeds sticking up in uneven chunks of cobble, tarmac patches and concrete slabs. He wants to come in but you don’t know who he is and he looks like a madman. He promises a song, but so did last night's drunk at the bus stop. So do they all.
Out of charity, you give him a listen from behind a wheelie bin. He shouts something about the slug of truth in a harsh voice and you wish you hadn’t.
But before you know it, he's got his shoes off in front of the gas fire and you’re making tea and slicing some fruit cake from the Co-op.
"I think an acoustic guitar played percussively is a denial of the guitar maker's existence." You’re stammering as an excuse. You've been trying all your life trying not be as weird as people think you are, and it seems just unfair that someone is allowed to have big signs on their aura saying "Weird Guy, Please Feed". As far as you can tell Lee Allatson is not weird at all. He's a gently musical introvert with the talent of a Martin Newell. He seems inventive, entertaining, communicative and lots of fun. Other writers tell such lies about people, you promise to give up reading about music for a year.
So while you finish the cake and shoo him out the front door with directions for the Post Office, you agree to review his album and the job turns into quite a task because it assumes you have been listening to creatively honest music for a few years and it tells you not to bother persuading Franz Ferdinand fans to stop twitching long enough to listen to something weird for a change. You've already wasted the phrase "in the glorious tradition of Syd Barrett" on a dozen half arsed egomaniac strummers. No one cares – and those who might certainly don't need another one of those.
In the eleven songs on The Night of the Killer Longface, the performance-focus is obvious. On a formal occasion with recording equipment or a performance fee MISTERLEE becomes a three-person ukulele, scraper, plastic recorder, electronic junk, kazoo, electric guitar, handclap orchestra of some resonance. It's not an uncommon game in the places where I go these days. I know CD:UK tend not to feature artists who sit around a pile of boxes, wires and microphones, picking out instrumental combinations like Tommy Cooper choosing hats. But it is a good game, with an honourable tradition and it works well, It freshens up expectations and gives a new sensitivity to ears numbed by too many Butt Hole Surfer deconstructions.
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"Magnesium Horse" reminds me (obviously) of Mark Linkous, while "The Caligula Waltz" reminded me of Derek Jacoby (less obviously). "Magnesium Horses" is a fine tune and marshals several cunning devices to draw the listener closer to the sinister (left) field where unexplained slaughters have taken place. It frees the imagination, soothes the anxiety, and lets all the other songs crowd up where you can get to know them. Whimsical, warm, mysterious, unique. Each one is distinct and clear in its own frame. It's a rich collection, with "Fortune Telling Agnes" as my own personal favourite. Maybe it’s the song John Betjeman would have recorded if he was a post-punk antifolk musical obsessive instead of a rich dead poet. If you do see Lee at a gig in the next month or two can you let him know he left a couple of very small noises in a pocket of Agnes's overall? I could hardly hear them at first, but they're definitely in there and I think they might be part of some important decoding equipment.
Other people have mentioned "Lazified" as a song that stands out. It does have a nice tune and the balance of echoey piano, long bass notes and a slightly mad distant choir give it a "ooh, that could be a theme song in a big film" quality. I think it would be a good in an advert for not buying things. "Goodbye Lullaby" has whistling, which would be lovely if he taught the audience to join in. The tune is disarmingly complex. And disarmingly is a good word too. It leaves a pleasant taste of co-op fruit cake lingering on the palate and a warm feeling in the heart.
Listen out for the drumming on "Black Soul".
www.misterlee.co.uk
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