Boomkat Product Review:
Cumbria’s Natalie Sharp and her pals, aka Lone Taxidermist, present something like Roisin Murphy produced by the Mighty Boosh, or Fever Ray writing with Ben Wheatley, in their remarkable debut LP; Trifle.
Arriving with a mean live reputation and press in the right places, Lone Taxidmerist are surely one of the most novel and cutely daft new pop acts to emerge from the UK in a while. Treading far to the pop side of say, Yeah You, they write wonky but widely appealing pop songs wickedly offset by the blunt but varied Cumbrian accent and signing voice of Natalie Sharp, which only stands out more brilliantly against the current tide of identikit X-Factor crooners and hordes of home counties princesses parading as pop starlets.
Cocking a canny snook at electro and pop convention, Trifle sits perfectly inside and out of its paradigm, offering slanted takes on the usual obsessions with sex, dancing and getting wrecked, spelt out to a heaving bag of raw, warped but memorably effective grooves taking in mutations of acid-hall rub-a-dub, Sleaford Mods’ like hip hop, and pub-ready disco. It’s all thoroughly infectious and refreshingly unconceited, immediate yet riddled with details and unique perspectives that are equally more unhinged/realistic than the majority of pap in the charts (and i *should* know, harrumph, ‘cos i listened to the top 40 on radio the other day and it all was fucking shite.)
They may not be making leaps and bounds for the oprgression of pop music, but there’s some very solid gestures inside. Whether juggling spiky jungle breaks on a half tempo digidub arpeggio in Home, taking on scuzzy garage punk in Bijoux Boy, or even A.C. Marias/Carla Dal Forno-style dirge-pop in Nowhere, right thru to the modem bogle of Hammered In Hoembase, the combination of Natalie’s presence and the mutable backings from Phil Winter and Will Kwerk are surreally familiar yet detached; like a really simple jigsaw where all the pieces tend to sprout legs and rearrange themselves at will, or according to lunar cycles.
Top marks for singing in Cumbrian accent, and almost as many for innovation and cheeky dancehall afflictions. We’ll give this one a solid five out of six possible buttered barms on the intercounty bap scale.