A mixed review of the Fosca album on the SoundsXP website.
‘Having occupied the position of the most recognisable man on the London gig circuit for many years now, Fosca front man Dickon Edwards…’
I hardly ever go to (or play) London gigs at the moment. Clearly I don’t need to if I’m still thought to be ubiquitous. Maybe I’ve left a kind of ghosting effect in my wake.
‘…Edwards never seems to show any sign of aging…’
Can’t complain about that. Though that said, when I’ve had this comment in the past, it’s often been a resentful, backhanded one; paving the way for a line about being all looks and no content.
‘…Edwards is all too often a case of style over substance…’
There you go! That train’s never late!
‘…on the plus side, his barnet and the dreadful attempt at an ‘oh-ooh’ on opener I’ve Agreed To Something I Shouldn’t Have does suggest an alternative career as a Jimmy Saville impersonator awaits…’
I’d draw the line at the shell suits, though.
‘…Confused And Proud manages to be a minor shoegaze classic despite not featuring any guitars whatsoever.’
So much for Tom’s Cocteau Twins-y guitar arpeggios all over the mix. Still, nice to have made a minor shoegaze classic.
‘It’s notable that the real highlight comes when keyboardist Kate Dornan takes over writing and singing duties on the delightfully jangly Evening Dress at 3pm.’
Good for Kate, though it’s actually Rachel singing lead on that track. Different side of the Pennines.
‘Themes of outsiderness, misanthropy and defeatism run through the record like a stick of rock…’
I think they mean ‘like letters through a stick of rock’…
‘… suggesting that Edwards retains his unique look as a way of waving two fingers at an uncaring world.’
Hmmm. I appreciate it might seem that way to some, but that’s really not my intention one jot. Maybe it was when I was a younger, cockier tyke, but not now, and not on the album either.
I just feel slightly at an angle to the universe (to use the Peter Cook phrase), and think it’s only fair to dress accordingly, rather than pretend to be something I’m not. That’s all. I’m too polite to wave fingers.
I also bristle uneasily at the idea of misanthropy: I like to think I’m closer to a New Romantic Ghandi. Or if you will, a Ghandi dandy. Oh, all right, you won’t.
I wanted the album to be more about acknowledging but resisting that very urge to walk around in a fug of bitterness, accepting – and embracing – one’s individuality without being tiresomely solipsistic and indulgent about it. Hence ‘Come Down From The Cross (Someone Needs The Wood)’. Well, that’s what I tried to do, anyway. Heigh and indeed ho.
Still, I’m grateful for the album being reviewed at all.
