12th April 1999


Single of the Week

"Instant Street" by dEUS

Here's 6 and a half minutes of pure essence of pop, concentrated into a sparkling crystal decanter of intoxicating tastiness and delight. Starting gently, with echoes of Prefab Sprout and a hint of country, "Instant Street" lassoes a great big stallion of a tune and takes it for a gallop through urban cowboy country. "After any old motherfucking brawl, I'll be back", drawl the vocals, getting off their horse and drinking their milk. An effective duet with another, gentler vocalist provides tonal contrast, then - after three and a half minutes - we're off into the sunset, with an off-kilter and jerky instrumental outro, all swagger and swoonsome guitar dissonance. Cooler than Clint Eastwood.

"There" is the first b-side, a soft lullaby of a song that floats past like dandelion seeds on a spring day, rich acoustic guitar swirling around ambient piano and breathed vocals that makes Spiritualized sound like a speed metal band. 90 seconds, and it's gone, it's place taken by a demo version of "Everybody's Weird", a subdued subterranean dance beat assaulted by moog and bass synth sounds whilst vocals ooze out the speakers like jam out a doughnut, and a female vocal sample intones "everybody's a weird guy" over and over again. This is innovation, fat boy. dEUS are #1, so try harder.

To add to this already-approaching perfect product, everything's topped off by the superb video to "Instant Street", which really gets into its own with the choreographed street ballet of the last third.

I'm off to get The Ideal Crash tomorrow.

Rating: 10/10

The Rest

"Electricity" by Suede

You could predict what this was going to sound like before slipping it suggestively into the stereo: crashing glam guitars, arse-slapping vocal histrionics and lyrics that sound like they should be in the script to a 60s movie starring Michael Caine. So when "Electricity" exudes out the speakers with all that plus something that can only be described as funk, it comes as both a blast of familiar sleazy moistness and a refreshing new flavour of flirtatiousness. The lyrics are suitably leather-clad and sleazily faded ("We got a love that ain't got no shame"), and the tune grabs you by the Marc Bolans and drags you willingly through Suede's familiar world of disaffected weird sex and hollow cheeked vampiric sex gods. Which is somewhere that - although I wouldn't like to live there - is nice to visit. Wish you were here.

"Popstar" is - unlike "Filmstar" - a slowie, tripping synthetically over a bit of 80s-ish electronic floaty lightness. "Killer" is more menacing, Suede's theme song for a lost Bond movie: one in which 007 takes loads of drugs and starts kinking about in leather gear (resists obvious James Bondage joke). This is elegant and slinky class, the kind of music that you would show yours to round the back of the bike shed.

Over on the second CD, "See That Girl" is first b-side, another slow and slinky sleazorama; so heady, sweet and heavy that you can virtually see the smoke wafting out of the CD player. "Waterloo" (sadly not the Abba song) is a Neil Codling penned (and sung, by the sounds of it) number, a poignant, Nico-like aural sketch of past-it glamour and lost chances.

Sleazily faded, slinky class, past-it glamour: that'll be Suede back then.

Rating: 9/10

"Fill Her Up" by Gene

After the ethereal naughtiness of Brett and the boys, this relatively heavy-handed stomp comes as something of a back-down-to-earth let down. When Gene go for the "I'm one of the lads, me" rock jugular, as they do with "Fill Her Up", they are 10 times better live - when their uniquely and piercingly emphatic sound is using your chest as a trampoline - than they are on record. Such is the case here, with this single being only mildly diverting, whereas in a live environment it is capable of leaving you with bruises.

"Pass On To Me" is much better, with the band back at their doomed romantic best; low-key production and maudlin vocals filling the same void that bands like The Smiths sank effortlessly into. "Touched By The Hand of Havoc" represents the band's other irresistible strand: that of the epic and stirring widescreen epic, Rossiter and co standing on monitors, clenched fists raised and chins jutted out heroically, like old Communist statues.

Ace, if it hadn't been for the a-side...

Rating: 6/10

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