I’ve lived a pretty staid life really; growing up in a regular family of two and a half children, with caring parents that kept us largely sheltered from the storm. Sure, we had concerns about the atomic bomb, the wrath of God, and all those pesky space alien abductions. But we were generally happy, we were safe, and we knew that if we ate our greens, brushed our teeth, and didn’t talk to strangers, then all would be happy and hunky-dory.
Regrettably however, I soon discovered rock ’n’ roll. I found myself smoking the greens not eating them, most of my teeth fell out, and I was talking to a hell of a lot of strangers. And some of these strangers were really really strange. Take Alicia Perrone and Victor James ….. for example. They live in Las Vegas, in a stupendously pretentious pad that, no word of a lie, was once a film set for some of the hottest eighties porno movies anyone’s ever likely to see.
Alicia and Victor are the insanely creative driving force behind U.S. genre-bending, electro-neo noir super-group ‘Fans of Jimmy Century’. They’ve just released a roller-coaster ride of an album, a greatest hits package, that’s quite stunning in its scope and vision.
There’s this one song on there, shoots me back to a particularly hedonistic period of my mad old life; a song, screaming decadence. It’s sinister and shadowy, it’s a seditious invitation that might not be totally trustworthy, but you’ll go for it anyway. It’s like a never-ending musical ball, where the chords come in costume and the brass is sordid and sassy. It’s a Tim Burton-esque, cabaret-styled, vaudeville, burlesque, masterpiece.
In fact, it’s like nothing you’ve ever heard before from the Pop mainstream. It’s Cruella Deville, admiring Dalmatians.
It’s ‘All My Friends Are Ice Queens’.