MOOMAW: DON’T YOU JUST LOVE
Don’t You Just Love
It’s rare that an album can stump my musical palate, but this recording sounds like so much and yet like nothing specific, other than maybe “haunting” and “deep.” There’s definitely an 80s synth-funk feel, plus some glitch/musique concrète, though not every song has these qualities—each song is utterly a part of the whole, and sounds utterly “moomawkish,” yet without a necessary stylistic connection from one to the next. Even that voice is both consistent yet fluid, going between the new wave tenor of Modern English, the husky hunkiness of Dusty Rhodes, and the falsetto of Sylvester or a drunken Bee Gee (or to put it in a context his young fans might be more familiar with, Marion Belle). Can you tell how much I’m reaching for familiarity and grasping nothing? Aside from that distinct voice, if you were to tell me this was an experimental project by Prince or Beck or Aphex Twin or Bjork or, hell, the dudes from Cluster, I’d be willing to believe you. I would never expect a white dude in his thirties with 330 Facebook likes to be this good!