Dexys – One Day I’m Going To Soar

Don’t worry I don’t see myself as an aspiring music reviewer but I thought I’d expand on a tweet I made earlier about this album “without being sexist this Dexys CD is a blokes only affair,the sort of album that drives girlfriends mental and is only played when they go out”. Basically it’s the musical equivalent of nipping into Dixon’s as she somersaults through Dorothy Perkins again even though you’ve already been in there twice. It’s the metaphorical potting shed cliche, although in fairness after an explosive meander it plods around very slowly for the first six tracks in the same way that proper blokes fanny around after being told they must sort out the garden, usually on pain of death that Barbara is coming over for a BBQ. When it’s does ignite, it should be said not in a too rye ay way, it kicks off with a sort of bit of hot chocolate style stuff then immediately erupts into a row between a woman and a man. They don’t make records like this any more and that’s not to say its fantastic or magnificent but I think like the farty funk of a dusty record shop these things should be preserved. The music gently soulfully and skilfully slides along side you and smooches around in a way that inspires that subconscious dad dancing dancing groove whilst simultaneously spewing swear words from a singers mouth that any sane woman would recognise couldn’t hold a fucking tune. The background sounds anything from accomplished polished Al Green to skipping 70’s soul pop whilst sounding like a cod opera the words jarring and sticky with spoken word passages crassly levelled over the top of beautiful woven music. It’s a turn off for women and so it should be, they’ve got Catlin Moran, 50 shades of Grey and tits, what have we got, bugger all, even football is androgynous via laddette in culture. Celebrate your difference, this has got switch it off written all over it from a vaginal perspective but as jarring and as strange this concept is there a beautiful man stood with a pint nodding quality about this piece that will only improve with age. It’s remarkable, because basically is doesn’t give a fuck, there’s a freedom in it that is liberating for men of a certain age and as sure as your wife, girlfriend and children will roll there eyes at you when you want to play it you will have the secret desire is to own it on vinyl and perform the strange ritual of slowly sliding out of an electrostaticly charged sleeve, blowing the dust of it and dropping the music centre needle on it and playing it so loud that your mother in law fucks off back to where she came from taking everyone with her. I’m giving it a second play of the night because I have a night free and I urge all men to do the same.

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