Apparently, I buy too many records

My wife Helen, like every other woman i've ever lived with, believes that I buy too many records.

Which, as every record-buying man knows, is a ridiculous belief.

I will concede, however, that I do indeed buy a lot of records and that I don't afford them the same amount of listens and attention that I did 20 or 30 years ago.

To this end, I have decided to blog about the records that I buy, in order to help my appreciation of them - and perhaps to show Helen that I don't buy that many records after all.

Because i'm crap with deadlines the blog posts will be sporadic and probably be about a month or 2 behind but that's just the way i am! The posts will not necessarily be actual reviews (most likely comments, at best) and will generally be pretty damn short due to the reasons outlined above. As a writer in a previous existence i have decided not to worry about writing as art in the pieces but, instead, to attempt to convey feeling over semantic (and often grammatic) perfection.

And 'OCRB'? It stands for 'Obsessive Compulsive Record Buying' - a little known mental health affliction that is potentially damaging to the bank account but ultimately life-affirming. It is sad.......but a nice form of sad.

Wednesday 30 March 2011

Automatic Man: Automatic Man (Island)

Matt the hat chucked this in free when i bought a load of records from him last month as i was admiring the embossed cover of an android. I thought it looked interesting as it was a black four piece from 1976 who played synths and dressed like glam futurists and so i deduced it could sound like a funky krautrock prog based piece of glam psychedelia. Hmmmmmm. Imagine if Jimi Hendrix wasn't half as talented but still insisted on soloing all over the shop, and team him up with Phil Lynott on vocals. Only Phil has a bit of a poorly throat and sounds a bit strained and thus has issues with certain notes. Add to them a drummer who only plays session drums on shit disco records and a talented bass player who has had a row with the producer, and who has therefore buried him in the mix. Finally add a guy on synth who has slept with the producers wife and belittled him to such a degree that said producer cuts up his tracks and scatters them all over the album, making no sense at all.
That's what this album sounds like. Sort of.

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