Aidan Moffat is aware that people expect to hear “more whinging from Glasgow’s alcoholic lo-fi miserablist” with each release, but it’s different this time. This is an album about love and as such, it is about as playful – and cheerful – as Aidan gets.
Most surprising of all is the brevity of each track: this is an album without an ounce of flab on it. The music bolsters the more upbeat lyricism of tracks like 'Big Blonde' and 'That's Just Love', whilst also lending a sympathetic temperament to 'Atheist's Lament', which is a truly lovely thing, a touching ballad sung by an unbeliever, craving the faith he can never have as a cushion against the hardships of loss and bereavement.
And so the album proceeds with this interchange between frivolous analyses of male-female relationships and more sober, poetic outings such as the 'Lullaby For Unborn Child'; Moffat's song to an infant in the womb, preparing the child for life on the outside, revealing a more sentimental side to a writer whose preoccupations have tended towards grimier, more corporeal concerns.
A beautifully produced record of contrasts: aching esthetics and gritty, incisive, illuminating prose.
Parental Advisory: Contains Explicit Lyrics