Fear Of Fours

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OK, so we review some weird shit here at motion, and, well we like a lot of weird shit. And yet, were I to do a straw poll on motion contributors' favourite projects over the last few months I'm pretty certain that pop music would feature pretty damn highly. Well, maybe not pop, but, you know, music with, like, songs, and singers and stuff like that. Stuff you might actually hear on the radio before midnight. Brazilian singer-songwriter's Vinicius Cantuària's fabulous neo-bossa, Björk's constant self-reinvention, Blur's deconstruction of Brit-glam, David Sylvian's dark introspection, Arto Lindsay's global punk-funk, Cornelius' freewheeling mangling of J-Pop... these are definitely some of motion's favourite things... of late. Sad thing is, we often seem as woefully isolated on these issues as we are when it comes to sliced-up-jazz-punk-futuro-krautrock-disco or whatever. And then there's Lamb. The lamentably underrated Lamb. For those outta the loop Lamb are programmer/composer/keyboardist wunderkind Andy Barlow and singer songwriter Lou Rhodes. Their eponymous debut album, and the singles it spawned, and the remixes they in turn spawned were among the highlights of 96 and 97. "Cotton Wool" in particular is, quite simply, one of the greatest pieces of pop music ever recorded. So Fear of Fours has a lot to live up to. Which, in my humble opinion, it truly does. OK, yes, some of the edge has gone; Barlow's skills - in terms of both programming and arrangement - have gone to strength to strength. He is now, unquestionably one of the finest craftsmen working in electronic music. If that's a problem for you, you might as well leave now. And Lou's voice has developed too; there's something altogether more arch in her inflection now, more knowing. That's growing up for you. Again, for my money, that's simply given the music more depth. So what you get, if I can try to sum up something so ineffable is essentially the most deftly crafted jazz-inflected drum and bass you've ever heard underpinning a series of, by turns dark and wide-eyed, elliptically lyrical songs. There's a whole bunch more stuff thrown into the mix of course: a thirteen piece string section; guest percussion, guitar and violin parts; Kevin Davy's beautiful trumpet playing; drummer Mikey Wilson; and Jon Thorne's remarkable double bass playing, rendered - as often as not - almost robotic by Barlow's surgical splicing. But the show is Lou and Andy's. Second albums are, classically, meant to be difficult. Lamb seemed to have weathered the general indifference which greeted their appearance on the scene and come through stronger. Let's hope the world sits up and takes notice. Lamb for world domination!