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One part regal, one part carcinogenic - Kenny Anderson aka King Creosote. A new-found love of Anderson will bolster your music collection and turn those hard earned spondulicks over to credit control. 'Inner Crail To Outer Space' and 'Whelk Of Arse' are just some of the amusements that spring from a discography that puts Mark E. Smith in the pale. The Fall, of course, have the head start with Anderson rounding the posts at just some 10 years or so of recording history and netting nigh on 40 releases, primarily CD-R's through the fishing cottage industry that is Fence Records, based in Anstruther, Kingdom of Fife. The prolific output bears no relation on the sheer quality of work that is Anderson's hallmark and the mutual support industry that he's kindled alongside Johnny Lynch (Pictish Trail), James Yorkston, Uncle Beesly et al.
Domino has been the home for the 'official' releases, the ones that bring in the coffers - namely 'Rocket D.I.Y.', 'K.C. Rules OK', and the most recent 2007 galvaniser, 'Bombshell'. The sporting tales of wronged women and male woes are a lot tidier than Anderson's scraggy and unkempt appearance. And 'Flicking The Vs' is a whole lot sexier and dancier and than previous work, like there's been some Roxy Music going on in the tour bus. This is warped-folk for the 21st Century.
The winds of change are there from the opening with enhanced technicolour electronics. 'No One Had It Better' is like some Caledonian Hot Chip cross-pollination as a twangy bass lays down a groove and a modulated vocal cuts a romp - consider being blissed out dancing at 5 a.m. in the strawberry fields. 'No Way She Exists' is just the kind of belter that Anderson needs to hook the masses and bring them crashing Anstruther's chippies - jumping like a hyper kid, the up-beat tune blends hammered dulcimer and a honking Roxy Music-like baritone sax, singing "...all you do is sit at home, what a loser..." on an exhilarating track. 'Coast On By' is a distillate of Fence Records - a strident Teutonic number with a marching beat, Roxy Music-like piano and Johnny Pictish on vocal harmonies, "...I coast on by, with a risk of a mixed up coastal metaphor...".
Traditional Caledonian sunbursts work through the firmament on 'We're Two Frogs At A Wedding' (rabbit!!l) and 'Camels Swapped For Wives - the former with a strong digi-pulse drive and backseat melodica, accordion, and that tear-inducing vocal of K.C.'s., while the latter takes no prisoners as K.C.'s caustic wit is brought to bear, singing - "...well I hope your promised land is more than sand and rocks and camels swapped for wives...". The wit's there in spades on 'Fell An Ox' which comes about out of some near minute long faux-tuning, like a vintage Jonny Trunk platter, it's a gentle harmony with naif electronica and K.C. singing "...you were all over me, making it hard to breathe, I said you are making me ill...your perfume makes me sneeze...".
'Nothing Rings True' is a magical ballad illuminated by northern lights and shadowed like faerie glens as tinkly piano and guitar echoes are spliced and refracted, while 'Curtain Craft' sounds like some Neil Young 'Harvest' outtake - however, a waltzing ballad is soon beholden to infuriating brass that punctures as welcoming as a blown tyre. 'Rims' is a frothy wee ditty where skiffle beats and vocal harmonies from K.C./Pictish marry with accordion wheeze, singing to a kind of ceilidh-pop - "...oh we'll have a fine time on a West Coast drive, together demented laughing at our bold lives...". 'Saw Circular Prowess', meanwhile, works up a North Sea storm with an epic rock sounding denouement and uses a musical reprise from earlier recordings, singing "...jumped up, fucked up on me..." as violins swelter.
'Flicking The Vs' packs the tracks that form singles that form livelihoods. Not that it's Lobster Thermidor for dinner. The jury's out as to whether it betters 'Bombshell', but the standouts form a title race challenge. As ever, Anderson's voice is pure quicksilver - the sort to make grown men break down and cry, and repent derring-do's. Here's a fruit beer to that man!
