If Nick Cave found his happy place, went to Vegas, won some cash, listened to a little lounge, and stopped for a quick lobotomy, it might sound like this.
Crispen Hunt’s vocals (complete with angelic falsetto) to make the Longpigs a great band, but they also write the most powerful pop songs I’ve ever heard.
The tone is at times pure pop ethereal or woozy psychedelic “slackadaisical” and at others, an inventive, overly fuzzy organ-fueled search for a melody.
From the first moments, you drown in a wash of rich orchestration and entrancing melody lines that draw you into singer Martin Rossiter’s enchanting world.