My love of Blaine Harrison has been well-documented. So when he sings lines like: All I wanna do is melt, melt, melt, melt into you... Well, swoon. I think it's the lyrics that keep them from drifting into the sewage that we call the Top 40. Moments of pure brilliance are littered amongst some predictable rhymes. Moments like "Have you heard the birds and bees, have all got STDs?" Needless to say, it's the soundtrack to my life right now.
The strange thing about the Mystery Jets is that I should hate the direction they've gone in. From the eccentricities of 'Making Dens' to the wall of eighties nostalgia that is 'Serotonin'.
But I can't hate it. I love the Mystery Jets and firmly believe that all they touch turns to musical gold. Even if that is pop music.
In other news, I finished my Bill Bryson book, 'Notes From A Small Island' today. I loved it. Bill Bryson's dry yet optimistic style is very endearing. Plus, at one point in his travels, he goes to Wigan (!) and even mentions my hometown:
"Wigan can't be more than 15 or 16 miles from Manchester, but it took most of the afternoon to get there. We lurched and reeled through endless streets than never seemed to change character or gain any. They were all lined with tiny terrace houses, of which every fourth one seemed to be a hairdressers'. We went through Eccles and Worsley, then through a surprisingly posh bit, then on through Boothstown and Tyldesley and Atherton and Hindley and other such places of which I had never heard."
He even at one point goes to the Corinthia Cafe (I go there sometimes!) and is actually quite complimentary of Wigan.
I shall endeavor to read more of Bryson's work :)