Back on the cusp of the '90s, John Donaldson led the incendiary and under-rated Levellers 5 from the East Lancs hinterland. They made two great albums on Probe Plus (the startling 'Springtime' and its' equally scabrous follow-up 'Clatter'), planted a huge African drum stage centre where a drum kit would normally be and - courtesy of their malevolent near-hit 'Big Friday' - almost nudged their way into the Mancs indie-dance crossover thing that brought fame and fortune for the Stone Roses and Happy Mondays.
Fast forward almost twenty years and the fourth album from Donaldson's current guerillas CALVIN PARTY arrives after a lengthy hiatus, but with a new(ish) line-up including ex-Dub Sex bassist Cathy Brooks and a new found, if still slightly spiky pop sensibiltity being embraced by the re-invigorated band. These days, current CP drummer Dan Hadley pushes them along from behind a more recognisable drum kit, but as he approaches veteran status John Donaldson continues to make an uncompromising and filthily enjoyable racket that ought to be picked up on the larger underground radar.
And, if you've not previously been indoctrinated, then 'Godard's Girlfriend' is an excellent point of entry. I have no idea whether the 'Godard' in the title refers to Jean Luc or Vic, but that's largely irrelevant, for most of it makes for thrilling listening. Opener 'History Girl' starts as it means to go on: perky, spiky guitar pop with Donaldson's quizzical, heavily-accented Lancs vox to the fore, guitarist Dave Thom leaving his usual consummate marks on the melody and Donaldson's lyrics ("you're a stupid girl, you're yesterday's girl...you're history girl") sounding like an updating of Elvis Costello's 'This Year's Girl'.
Intriguing stuff, and it's not the only time they pull the pin on live'n'primed weirdo-pop grenades either. The swoony, anthemic 'Just Keep Falling' is every bit its' equal and finds Donaldson lusting after "ginger girls and irish girls and jet black west coast girls" before admitting "well I love you, but you don't know it!" and indulging in a wonderfully hooky and immediate chorus. 'Veronica's Song', too, is instantly compelling: a languid, raking-over-the-embers affair illustrated elegantly by a gorgeous Dave Thom guitar solo, while the aching 'Best Friend' has echoes of 'Sunday Morning' Velvets and an attractive lightness of touch you mightn't previously have associated with the Calvins.
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They haven't entirely slammed the stable door on the noisy shit either, of course. Opening a capella before succumbing to ritualistic indie-Glam riffing, 'Try' is much more recognisable Donaldson fare, as is the groovy repetition and wailting vocal proffered by 'Come On In' and the strutting, search and destroy aggression inherent on 'Well Hell'. All these are executed with vicious aplomb, but don't quite match the intensity of the dark, Mittle European savagery of 'Broken Flowers', the opiated grace of the title track or the great, drone-y Factory floor folk of 'Hey Nothing' which is again embroidered beautifully by Dave Thom's skills. This time with a meanly plucked banjo and accordions in tow.
All of which adds up to an extremely satisfying listen and possibly even a career best for Donaldson and co. Making a date with 'Godard's Girlfriend' is not only an alluring prospect, but it really is your loss if you then decide to stand her up.
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