Charlie Megira & The Modern Dance Club
Love Police
The man, the myth; displaced rock star Charlie Megira is subject of posthumous reissue to his 2009 opus, following a handy and indispensable catch-up compilation with Numero Group - RIYL Ariel Pink, The Fall, Uncle John & Whitelock, Dividers
Charlie Megira is the handle for cult Israeli singer-songwriter Gabi Abudraham (10 October 1972-5 November 2016, Berlin, Germany), whose singular, familiar yet alien handful of recordings, made between the late ‘90s and ‘00s, were little known beyond the region until Numero cast a light on his oeuvre with the ‘Tomorrow’s Gone’ retrospective in 2022. ‘Love Police’ now expands our knowledge of this curious character with a full spectrum showcase of his peculiar slant on surfy, swampy garage rock ’n roll, as heard thru a prism of no wave, post-punk and industrial. Where the preceding comp set expectations for his choice morsels of classic rock ’n roll songwriting, this one plays to the full spectrum of his strengths with 31 properly succinct shots including killer line of soundscaping and no-fucks-given swagger.
To our sensibilities Megira’s music reminds to the janky, scotch-taped brilliance of early Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti as much as the sorely overlooked ‘There Is Nothing Else…’ by Uncle John & Whitlock, as well as tonnes of the best hardcore or even Mark E. Smith’s rabble raising howl. We point thee to potent jams in the revving thrust and primal delivery of ‘Beneath the Underground’ and ‘Existence’, or examples of his timeless melodic chops in ‘(Used to Be…) Psychic Youth’, and brilliantly strung out distortion redolent of The Jesus and Mary Chain in ‘The Valley of Tears’, with haunting, Lynchian rock ’n roll flashbacks lurking in ‘Here Comes Your Mama’. But an X amount of the magic lies in the way he recklessly switches between styles and makes them all his own, and especially in the album’s fragmented nature, rife with noisy non sequiturs and concrète cut-ups that keep everyone on their toes.
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The man, the myth; displaced rock star Charlie Megira is subject of posthumous reissue to his 2009 opus, following a handy and indispensable catch-up compilation with Numero Group - RIYL Ariel Pink, The Fall, Uncle John & Whitelock, Dividers
Charlie Megira is the handle for cult Israeli singer-songwriter Gabi Abudraham (10 October 1972-5 November 2016, Berlin, Germany), whose singular, familiar yet alien handful of recordings, made between the late ‘90s and ‘00s, were little known beyond the region until Numero cast a light on his oeuvre with the ‘Tomorrow’s Gone’ retrospective in 2022. ‘Love Police’ now expands our knowledge of this curious character with a full spectrum showcase of his peculiar slant on surfy, swampy garage rock ’n roll, as heard thru a prism of no wave, post-punk and industrial. Where the preceding comp set expectations for his choice morsels of classic rock ’n roll songwriting, this one plays to the full spectrum of his strengths with 31 properly succinct shots including killer line of soundscaping and no-fucks-given swagger.
To our sensibilities Megira’s music reminds to the janky, scotch-taped brilliance of early Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti as much as the sorely overlooked ‘There Is Nothing Else…’ by Uncle John & Whitlock, as well as tonnes of the best hardcore or even Mark E. Smith’s rabble raising howl. We point thee to potent jams in the revving thrust and primal delivery of ‘Beneath the Underground’ and ‘Existence’, or examples of his timeless melodic chops in ‘(Used to Be…) Psychic Youth’, and brilliantly strung out distortion redolent of The Jesus and Mary Chain in ‘The Valley of Tears’, with haunting, Lynchian rock ’n roll flashbacks lurking in ‘Here Comes Your Mama’. But an X amount of the magic lies in the way he recklessly switches between styles and makes them all his own, and especially in the album’s fragmented nature, rife with noisy non sequiturs and concrète cut-ups that keep everyone on their toes.
The man, the myth; displaced rock star Charlie Megira is subject of posthumous reissue to his 2009 opus, following a handy and indispensable catch-up compilation with Numero Group - RIYL Ariel Pink, The Fall, Uncle John & Whitelock, Dividers
Charlie Megira is the handle for cult Israeli singer-songwriter Gabi Abudraham (10 October 1972-5 November 2016, Berlin, Germany), whose singular, familiar yet alien handful of recordings, made between the late ‘90s and ‘00s, were little known beyond the region until Numero cast a light on his oeuvre with the ‘Tomorrow’s Gone’ retrospective in 2022. ‘Love Police’ now expands our knowledge of this curious character with a full spectrum showcase of his peculiar slant on surfy, swampy garage rock ’n roll, as heard thru a prism of no wave, post-punk and industrial. Where the preceding comp set expectations for his choice morsels of classic rock ’n roll songwriting, this one plays to the full spectrum of his strengths with 31 properly succinct shots including killer line of soundscaping and no-fucks-given swagger.
To our sensibilities Megira’s music reminds to the janky, scotch-taped brilliance of early Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti as much as the sorely overlooked ‘There Is Nothing Else…’ by Uncle John & Whitlock, as well as tonnes of the best hardcore or even Mark E. Smith’s rabble raising howl. We point thee to potent jams in the revving thrust and primal delivery of ‘Beneath the Underground’ and ‘Existence’, or examples of his timeless melodic chops in ‘(Used to Be…) Psychic Youth’, and brilliantly strung out distortion redolent of The Jesus and Mary Chain in ‘The Valley of Tears’, with haunting, Lynchian rock ’n roll flashbacks lurking in ‘Here Comes Your Mama’. But an X amount of the magic lies in the way he recklessly switches between styles and makes them all his own, and especially in the album’s fragmented nature, rife with noisy non sequiturs and concrète cut-ups that keep everyone on their toes.
The man, the myth; displaced rock star Charlie Megira is subject of posthumous reissue to his 2009 opus, following a handy and indispensable catch-up compilation with Numero Group - RIYL Ariel Pink, The Fall, Uncle John & Whitelock, Dividers
Charlie Megira is the handle for cult Israeli singer-songwriter Gabi Abudraham (10 October 1972-5 November 2016, Berlin, Germany), whose singular, familiar yet alien handful of recordings, made between the late ‘90s and ‘00s, were little known beyond the region until Numero cast a light on his oeuvre with the ‘Tomorrow’s Gone’ retrospective in 2022. ‘Love Police’ now expands our knowledge of this curious character with a full spectrum showcase of his peculiar slant on surfy, swampy garage rock ’n roll, as heard thru a prism of no wave, post-punk and industrial. Where the preceding comp set expectations for his choice morsels of classic rock ’n roll songwriting, this one plays to the full spectrum of his strengths with 31 properly succinct shots including killer line of soundscaping and no-fucks-given swagger.
To our sensibilities Megira’s music reminds to the janky, scotch-taped brilliance of early Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti as much as the sorely overlooked ‘There Is Nothing Else…’ by Uncle John & Whitlock, as well as tonnes of the best hardcore or even Mark E. Smith’s rabble raising howl. We point thee to potent jams in the revving thrust and primal delivery of ‘Beneath the Underground’ and ‘Existence’, or examples of his timeless melodic chops in ‘(Used to Be…) Psychic Youth’, and brilliantly strung out distortion redolent of The Jesus and Mary Chain in ‘The Valley of Tears’, with haunting, Lynchian rock ’n roll flashbacks lurking in ‘Here Comes Your Mama’. But an X amount of the magic lies in the way he recklessly switches between styles and makes them all his own, and especially in the album’s fragmented nature, rife with noisy non sequiturs and concrète cut-ups that keep everyone on their toes.
"Frogmen Green" colour double LP.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
The man, the myth; displaced rock star Charlie Megira is subject of posthumous reissue to his 2009 opus, following a handy and indispensable catch-up compilation with Numero Group - RIYL Ariel Pink, The Fall, Uncle John & Whitelock, Dividers
Charlie Megira is the handle for cult Israeli singer-songwriter Gabi Abudraham (10 October 1972-5 November 2016, Berlin, Germany), whose singular, familiar yet alien handful of recordings, made between the late ‘90s and ‘00s, were little known beyond the region until Numero cast a light on his oeuvre with the ‘Tomorrow’s Gone’ retrospective in 2022. ‘Love Police’ now expands our knowledge of this curious character with a full spectrum showcase of his peculiar slant on surfy, swampy garage rock ’n roll, as heard thru a prism of no wave, post-punk and industrial. Where the preceding comp set expectations for his choice morsels of classic rock ’n roll songwriting, this one plays to the full spectrum of his strengths with 31 properly succinct shots including killer line of soundscaping and no-fucks-given swagger.
To our sensibilities Megira’s music reminds to the janky, scotch-taped brilliance of early Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti as much as the sorely overlooked ‘There Is Nothing Else…’ by Uncle John & Whitlock, as well as tonnes of the best hardcore or even Mark E. Smith’s rabble raising howl. We point thee to potent jams in the revving thrust and primal delivery of ‘Beneath the Underground’ and ‘Existence’, or examples of his timeless melodic chops in ‘(Used to Be…) Psychic Youth’, and brilliantly strung out distortion redolent of The Jesus and Mary Chain in ‘The Valley of Tears’, with haunting, Lynchian rock ’n roll flashbacks lurking in ‘Here Comes Your Mama’. But an X amount of the magic lies in the way he recklessly switches between styles and makes them all his own, and especially in the album’s fragmented nature, rife with noisy non sequiturs and concrète cut-ups that keep everyone on their toes.
Black double LP.
Available To Order (Estimated Shipping between 7-14 Working Days)
This item is to the best of our knowledge available to us from the supplier and should ship to you within the time-frame indicated. If there are any unforeseen issues with availability we will notify you immediately
The man, the myth; displaced rock star Charlie Megira is subject of posthumous reissue to his 2009 opus, following a handy and indispensable catch-up compilation with Numero Group - RIYL Ariel Pink, The Fall, Uncle John & Whitelock, Dividers
Charlie Megira is the handle for cult Israeli singer-songwriter Gabi Abudraham (10 October 1972-5 November 2016, Berlin, Germany), whose singular, familiar yet alien handful of recordings, made between the late ‘90s and ‘00s, were little known beyond the region until Numero cast a light on his oeuvre with the ‘Tomorrow’s Gone’ retrospective in 2022. ‘Love Police’ now expands our knowledge of this curious character with a full spectrum showcase of his peculiar slant on surfy, swampy garage rock ’n roll, as heard thru a prism of no wave, post-punk and industrial. Where the preceding comp set expectations for his choice morsels of classic rock ’n roll songwriting, this one plays to the full spectrum of his strengths with 31 properly succinct shots including killer line of soundscaping and no-fucks-given swagger.
To our sensibilities Megira’s music reminds to the janky, scotch-taped brilliance of early Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti as much as the sorely overlooked ‘There Is Nothing Else…’ by Uncle John & Whitlock, as well as tonnes of the best hardcore or even Mark E. Smith’s rabble raising howl. We point thee to potent jams in the revving thrust and primal delivery of ‘Beneath the Underground’ and ‘Existence’, or examples of his timeless melodic chops in ‘(Used to Be…) Psychic Youth’, and brilliantly strung out distortion redolent of The Jesus and Mary Chain in ‘The Valley of Tears’, with haunting, Lynchian rock ’n roll flashbacks lurking in ‘Here Comes Your Mama’. But an X amount of the magic lies in the way he recklessly switches between styles and makes them all his own, and especially in the album’s fragmented nature, rife with noisy non sequiturs and concrète cut-ups that keep everyone on their toes.