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If the bear had a shaved, pale and tattooed front paw, and if it was smoking an Embassy, while gazing, puzzedly, at a trail of anti-depressants leading to who knows where, that wouldn't be a bad cover. It could be thinking about Dylan Thomas for good measure.
It's been suggested, by wiser souls than I (the artist formerly known as Flyboy though, so not necessarily that much wiser) that in the face of total artistic bankruptcy, this is the MSP's final roll of the dice.
Of course, that's probably true, but I don't know. It's not as if Richey actually played anything apart from Sonic The Hedgehog on 'The Holy Bible'. I'm perhaps over-invested in the idea that the last fifteen years just didn't happen (parroting Richey, you should kill yourself when you're sixty, I think) but I'm happy enough to believe that, for as long as it takes for the new album to play out, anyway, it was all a strange dream. No Blair years, no mobile phones. When I was sixty, I had the whole world ahead of me.
Whether this album sells or not probably depends on the number of people who feel, or not, just the same as what I do. |
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