Psychic Lemon describe themselves as Krautrock-Funk. Personally I’d call it Psych-Funk-Madchester. But it’s their band, they can call it what the frig they want.
Their self titled album is a frisky affair, somewhere between Lumerians and the instrumental bits of The Stone Roses.
‘TiCKToK’. It’s Can in a washing machine with a hint of Manicured Noise. It’s a pop song under a deep tumble.
‘Death Cult Blues’ is a brisk guitar romp, replete with jazz flute that can’t decide whether it wants to soundtrack the bit in Bullitt with the car chase, or the dinner for two with McQueen trying to get into Jacqueline Blisset’s knickers.
‘Good Cop Bad Cop’ is pure porn, wah-wah leakages and all. Plus it has a Northside-ish chorus.
‘Analogue Summer’ starts folky, perfect for the wooden whatnot that leers at you from the album cover. When the song kicks in proper they once again sound like Happy Mondays at their randiest.
‘Dilator’ sounds like The Pop Group’s ‘She Is Beyond Good And Evil’. Except by a band whose songs you can listen to.
‘Horizon’ swerves from a careering panic attack to underwater jam among the seaweeds to motorik funk-tangle to explosive Gerry Anderson theme tune. By turns tumultuous and blissed-out, it brings the album to an expansive, freewheeling close.
The bass is rammed right forefront, utilised as a weapon of mass seduction. Psychic Lemon comfortable and self-assured, but hardly self-indulgent.
Psychic Lemon: making the music that emanates from James Brown’s Fanny Magnet.
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