Fruity and funky loops, a mad as fuck stalker falsetto, a wacky playground approach to narrative, a macabre turn of phrase and heaps and heaps of incommensurable sadness – Baby Bird is back, only this time he’s Stephen Jones.
Having only heard a bare but impressive minimum of Jones’ output prior to the monster of classic pop that was ‘You’re Gorgeous’ and ‘Goodnight’ I must rather cautiously attest that Jones is back doing what he does best: imponderably ruthless lo-fi and circus horror pop with ridiculously pretty tunes. Judging by the PO BOX address on the album sleeve, he’s also back in Crud’s hometown of Sheffield – and not before time either.
Picking up where he left off, ‘Almost Cured Of Sadness’ confronts the delirious, shameless Casio-pop of early candy gems like ‘Shop Girl’, and ‘Sha Na Na’ as well as the darker, acerbic tooth and nails of ‘Razorblade Shower’.
More sample based than before, but no less spectacular in its range of quirky noises and multi-layered arrangements of absurdly original phrases, it’s an album that can throw up the sweetest and most deliberate, joyful gift of tunefulness (“Friend”, “Cured Of Sadness”) as well as the shit pant funk and blues of a wretched heart (“Little Thug”, “Jesus Freaks and Candy Asses”).
What I have heard of Jones somehow always reminds me of Christmas: a tin of quality street, a pitifully sweet sleigh-bell song, falling asleep in front of the TV, the waiting for something to happen, the hazy cloud of intemperance, the threat of a physical argument, the mortal threat of the New Year, the fear of small children.
Bring on the boxed-set – I want to be sad some more.