Go go Moloko - but leave those bunny rwabbits alone. (Do You Like My Tight Sweater ? - Moloko)

Member Name: peel.rebekah

Product:	Do You Like My Tight Sweater ? - Moloko
Date:	07/06/01 (226 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Yummy folly.

Disadvantages: Getting on a bit now.

There is silliness in this world: There is absurdity, childishness and hare-brainedness - and luckily, Moloko subscribed to all of these matters in their first album (1995), "Do you like my tight sweater?"

Yes, I do, actually, but it does itch rather under the armpits.

Moloko are an energizing little duo (Roisin Murphy and Mark Brydon), who have consequently made a few more feet prance in time to their jovial popski tunettes via their albums "I am not a Doctor" and, most top of the pops-ly, "Things to make and do". Although I kinda know that there has been a mainstreaming attitude in the last album, I don't believe that this has been the big time sellout that the press perceived it to be - my faith is firmly placed in Moloko's wit, playfulness and musical joy - oh, and of course their need to make a bit more cash.

Do you like my tight sweater is a complicated little album; its appendages and influences seem to creep endlessly through the worlds of pop, dance and contemporary music; this makes it a hard album to write a review about - but bear with me.

Fun for me: La la la la...An electronic farting theme drives over and under Roisin's las, hums and lyrics, while a simple high hat and drum rhythm keep her in the beat. Her voice (on top) is distorted to an American drawl (one she seems to adopt for the whole of the album); the beat occasionally runs away to a rave-a-day speed, but more often than not, continues in a laxative dance floor sort of way. The lyrics are a good introduction to the bizarrity of the rest of the album:

"I dreamt that I was dreaming I was wired to a clock
tickled by the minute hand tick tock tick tock...
I dream I'm in the park I'm standing in the nudey
I was getting what I wanted tuttie fruity tuttie fruity..."

Do you like my tight sweater? See how it fits my body. Statement? Song? I don't know. 15 seconds of silline
ss, a theme that continues in this album: Short bursts of Moloko's subconscious breaks the monotony of song after song after song (tisk, is that why you bought the album?). I don't pretend to understand, I just chortle occasionally.

Day for night: Hey, this is quite mainstream really - what's it doing on this album? It's just a relaxed rambling with seriously funky undercurrents *flash black to 70's disco cords (a few eighties ones as well) and echo effects*. Kind of seedy, slow with a smlattering of strange sound effects thrown in for good measure.

I can't help myself: Blobby, bubbly start into a soft DnB fluffy beat; strangeness of lyrics only superseded by weirdness of enveloping musical sounds. This tune is definitely meandering amongst Moloko's influences; Roisin's voice friskily jumps from voluptuous and pouty, to sugar sweet, cutesy popster. Whizzing, gloops, children's rhymes and subtle sci-fi effects. Tasty tune.

Uh oh, another one of those interludes: This time, hardly audible...all we know is that it is titled Circus and lasts for 19 seconds.

Lotus Eaters: Mewing of cats sets the scene for another oddity: A song of two parts (kind of); beginning with a dustbin lid tempo, squeaky lyrics, squeals and electronic ups and downs (plus a bit of piano) - leading into a reoccurring chorus type thing (Roisin coming back to the depths of her voice, but still accenting with a girlieness), all about a "dizzy little Missy" and something about cats. Best lyrics on the album: "Plastic people silicon never let them in your home" - I'll try not to.

On my horsey is, yes, you've guessed it, another break in the running order, leading into...

Dominoid: Roisin begins the song by singing through a thick piece of glass, before relaxing into a slow funk parade; a lazy, fat and bouncy downward slide, her voice sliding and drawling through the randomness of the wo
rds. This tune is definitely still in bed at 11.30am on a Sunday morning.

Party weirdo. How true can a song be? And I'm not talking about a love song or anything sloppy here - this tune sounds and feels like the freak that stands too close to you at a party and tries desperately to make nervous conversation; the distant girlie chat is the whisper in your ear to give him a wide berth, the psycho snippets alert the senses - yet on closer inspection, the lyrics lend themselves to the masses; the fruitlessness of partying, the uselessness of talking about anything slightly interesting while at a social gathering - lest you should appear too strange. An anti anthem that disguises itself in tight, sequined hot pants.

Tubeliar: 25 seconds of Elvis - maybe?

Ho Hum: Back to the 70's, but with a disordered beat: Funkiness with a bass and a moody broody fullness to Roisin's voice. Sweet and slow chorus that shines:

"Call for me by humming this tune
I only come when there's a full moon"

Four minute mark and the beat takes off in a frenzy, Roisin humming her little heart out, bless her.

Butterfly 747 flirts with a snake charming theme (not seriously), while prancing through a metal head drum and bass beat - reminds me of my long lost days of charmingly raving; no lyrics, just Roisin's voice performing acrobatics over your head.

Dirty monkey is the best of the shorts: 23 seconds:

"Dirty monkey, cheeky monkey, dirty monkey, he was a cheeky monkey."

All said/sung with pursed lips and tongue in cheek (if it's possible to do both at the same time.)

Folly is truely apparent in the next item on the album, Killa bunnies:

"Sniveling little bunny bouncing up and down
scummy little creature run them out of town
in the tiny tunnels scuffling underground
toxic little bunny can always be found
danger evil rodent multiplyin
g every day
bunny taking over get on your knees and pray"

What's with Moloko's apparent hatred for harmless little bunny rwabbits?; an evil incitement to spread mixamatosis with a dirgy undercurrent of swirling synth and a heavily thrashed bass.

Boo: Snarling dogs and Roisin reassures us that she means us no harm; the album begins a slow descent, chilling out a tad, with this slightly cumbersome 'ballad'. Still flying through a myriad of funk, soul and hip hop, the lyrics are uttered in a subdued soul sister/blues mother sort of way. Nice, but leading the way for something nicer still...

Where is the what if the what is in why: Stranded at the end of the album (or so you think), this becalmed little ditty displays the nearly earnest depths and searching need of Moloko; questions upon questions, no answers:

"What if the point was reincarnation what if my shoes don't match my jacket...
Why have a body if you ain't got a mind what is a searcher with nothing to find...
How did the loser get to be rich what is a salesman with nothing to pitch...
Why waste your time looking for proof what if the answer is never the truth."

And so the album is over, no? No, not quite yet: Roisin narrates a short story - Who shot the go-go dancer? and a good five minutes later, there is a seemingly unrelated reprisal; chilled, relaxed, bluesy with oomph:

"From here on I bequeath that you belong to me this here extended play I made yesterday it had you in mind you're there all the time."

Sweet little love coming at ya over the speakers; thanks for the thought, Moloko.

And so, the end. Moloko's first album; peculiar, eccentric, fluffy as a puppy, and enjoyable listening. Recommendation? Of course. Love these sweethearts, and forgive them for their disturbing distrust in small and furry mammals.

Enjoy.

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