Before about October, dear reader. I reckon I knew two Electric Six songs. You can guess which ones. I might even give subtle (ahem!) mentions of them in the review below (in fact I know I have because I’ve written this bit last). There’s no reason for that lack of knowledge. One of my mates told me I’d like them, I’m friends with their UK PR guy, it’s just the way it is.
To be honest, I don’t even know why I put “Turquoise” on that night, but when I did I found opener “Take Me To The Sugar”, gentle soulful and understated, like disco in the 80s. Not the shit Kiss version, the good stuff. I was made for loving this, you might say.
So why have I waited until New Year’s Eve to write this? Well, you’ll see if you can be arsed to read to the end, won’t you?
Anyway, after “…..Sugar” comes “Dr. K” and it’s the punk rock party anthem of the year. And that’s before “Hot Numbers On The Telephone” rings in. And the thing is so catchy they can vaccinate for it.
So yeah. Three songs in and they’re my perfect band. I’ll explain.
I have the attention span of a three-year-old. In fact, that’s doing a disservice to three-year-olds.
But the fact is, Electric 6 are the perfect band for those of us who have ADHD (diagnosed or otherwise). “Turquoise” is like a compilation record, it just happens to be from the same band.
To that end “Skyrocketing” is as perfect as hard rock gets, “Born To Be Ridiculed” could have been on the last Brian Setzer record, but it is the arena-shaking slow builder “Child Of Hunger” that you can’t resist, it’d be a good enough song anyway, even before this: “God said there’s got to be a way to make these stubborn minds beat/ Before they go and sell this number to Greta Van Fleet.”
And the genius of this is varied, but its right there in the lyrics: When, in the title track Dick Valentine dismisses consumerism, thus: “To think we used to live in fear of the atom bomb, now we’re ordering our sandwiches from shit.com” we’re in amongst a very special record indeed.
There’s a place for a “signature sound”, of course there is – hell, two of my favourite bands are Iron Maiden and AC/DC, and let us face facts here, people, you can spot one of their songs a mile off.
Not here, no. How you describe “Staten Island Ass Squad” with its funk (and you probably don’t want to delve too deep) and why it’s followed by the Game Of Thrones style opening to “Window Of Time” is anyone’s guess. Just be glad it does. And praise be Valentine for pointing out (quite rightly) that “nobody ever said they want to go back to 2020.”
Here’s the thing though. I shouldn’t be surprised at anything that happens here, but “Units Of Time” heading off down some kind of Dogs D’Amour road (vaguely “Dead Flowers” style country for anyone who hasn’t a clue what I’m on about) was – even for this – unexpected.
I’d like to talk to Valentine, though. I imagine it’d go all over the place, just as this record is a marvellous journey, through everything that’s ever been good in music ever. “Five Clowns” might do a bit of glam. But who knows what he’s wittering about? Maybe, I suspect, not even him.
And just in case you wanted anything else crammed into 45 minutes and 33 seconds, then the synth-heavy “The Browning Of Her Bones” will do you. Or if not, you’d best get on the dance floor in the gay bar, or anywhere else, you like, to “The Wheel Finds A Way”. There’s danger. There’s high voltage. There’s everything.
It brings down the curtain – and that’s apt given that it sounds like a performance, a musical if you like, rather than a cohesive record – on something that despite the fact it makes no sense whatsoever, is head and shoulders the best album of 2023.
Glorious and bewildering doesn’t even cover it. Not even close.
Rating: guess.
