The genius of Billy McKenzie is distilled in this largely unheard epic.Tribal drums introduce a synth pop backing which allows a bit more floorspace for what sounds like a barber shop quartet before McKenzie,s yerning vocals commence the song proper.
Both chaotic and cohesive ,this really shouldnt work but a maverick self belief produces a truly fantastic odd,unforgetable moment.This remained unreleased for nearly twenty years by a short sighted record company looking for a uqick repetitive return.Some things never change .

Post-punk "pop" at its most gorgeous/baroque/bewilderingly extreme - and the perfect introduction to the God-like genius of Alan Rankine and the late/great singer Billy Mackenzie. A four car-pile-up between Roxy Music (circa "For Your Pleasure"), Bowie (circa "Heroes"), Scott Walker's "Scott 3" and Kraftwerk's "The Man Machine", (with King Tubby and Shirley Bassey acting as ambulance attendants), this song is both empty and lush, creepy and hilarious, ice-cold and almost embarrassingly emotional. I have loved/lived/died by this song for almost two decades, and I still can't begin to tell you what its about. It's like something from outer space - like so many of the greatest pop songs are.