Everett True vs Little Joy

It's like listening to a Jeremy Jay album sung in (English and) Brazilian.

It's like watching Noel Gallagher dropping the act for one moment and singing 'Octopus's Garden', free and unafraid and unashamed to admit to a love for the nursery rhyme pop of his youth, while his brother looks on scornfully from the sidelines.

It's throwaway, disposable - but there ain't anything wrong with that.

It's like Brion Gysin's dream machine allowed to run rampant with the imagination of a trio of long-haired...I was going to write Devandra Banhart...Amy Winehouse fans. (It's like hearing that bonus CD with Back To Black and realising that pop stars are often at their most fertile when playing music they love, not catching up with the zeitgeist. Happens much less often then you'd wish.)

It's like Ringo Starr...um, when he was momentarily releasing the Good Stuff.

It's Jonathan Richman, but of course.

In many respects, it's the anti-Jack White (certainly where he's positioned himself now).

It's got a beguiling lightness of touch. Tunes linger. Folk are relaxed. Voices wrap themselves around vowels lovingly. Percussion is sparse, but felt. Dynamics do what dynamics should. There is fleshing out, but it certainly hasn't gone to seed. 'Unattainable' - the one with the female vocal - is a torch song that would make Mr Lynch flush with pleasure. 'With Strangers' - the one with the male vocal - is the sort of vaguely swaggering, belicose, liveable song that was claimed for The Strokes or The Libertines or one of those goddamn bands but so rarely materialised. Nice echoed harmonies, too.

I'd go watch this. Sure, I would.

P.S. Motherfucker. I've just seen what they look like. That'll teach me to listen to music without context. Fuck it. I'm sticking by what I said. This is nearly Herman Düne good.

P.P.S. Motherfucker. This is the song you really want to be listening to. Here, as well.