Large Number‘s 7’’ ‘duels’ the fakers

The three diva-babes were in town the other night to jointly hype their Queen remake of ‘We Will Rock You’ [although Freddie Mercury had a sense of humour he must be windmilling in his grave] to help flog the other cola drink that is as good for your health as London air that you breathe. The point we would like to pin down is the way they were attired: the less successful the less covered: Pink was simply bursting her ample body out of that slash-dress, Britney’s mini dress was close behind while Beyonce maintained comparative modesty.

It will be well featured in the next week’s issues of the new ‘goss‘n’tits-for-boyz’ mags Nuts and Zoo and their emergence simply confirms when the slide starts, the only way is cross-cultural and global… One of these publications carried a feature with Ms Aguilera all about her sex life; well, I may have learnt all about her clitoris action but not whether being orgasm-less has direct bearing on her lyrics and ‘f**k-da-garments* manoeuvres?

Where are you going to, my lovely? Pop music is rubbish, ‘star’-creating system is a comedy of errors [Joss Stone bypassed ‘Pop Idol’ to pish all over Michelle!], the hype is suffocating, even the re-emerging guitar pop sounds too-f**king polite! A teenager complained to me, after my recommendation, that VU/Nico ‘Banana’ album is unlistenable!? That’s what Rock is supposed to be - challenging, unsettling, edgy, thought-provoking, hormone-igniting, spectral noise-for-soul; not a safe‘n’easy translation of an oldie for a flippant and mundane hit one is cosseted by today.

If everyone loves Eminem, RHCP, Robbie and Kylie, where is the opposition, the alternative coming from? Where would all the sad, depressed Radiohead fans and born-again pessimists find their solace? Where is the map with the clearly marked refuge from the Chris Moyleses of the airwaves, the media’s increasing tabloid mentality, the vacuous celebrities, plug-in-tele-trash. On the other side, dressed in black, looking mysterious and naturally [rather than, like the above mentioned babes, laboured] frau fatale-esque is Ann Shenton, i.e. Large Number.

‘The Now Defunct Delaware’ (a type of synthesiser) is a three-tracker headed by ‘The Number People’ that actually addresses some of the above issues over a Krautrock intro, quickly morphing into this rock-funky choon that bursts with claustrophobic vocals. A cross between Velvet Underground and Prince on electroncs! ‘Pink Jazz’ [from the album of several months ago, ‘Spray on Sound’ - see our review and then go DIY favour and buy it!!!], a song free to funk through outer space and then to the centre of the Earth… If resurrected, Jules Verne would luv-it, floss me!

Directly contrasting is ‘Delia’, emerging atmospherically like a Goth siren on the shore full of ‘Delaware’ wonder-noises over an Far Easterly rhythm, something one imagines Ryuichi Sakamoto could have cooked up during a jam with the original Roxy Music (yeah, Brain Eno including) line-up. In every heart-home a dream-ache…

Issued only on 7’’, this little gem will not be available for long with Ms Shenton’s rate of creativity. So, grab it - the only other 10 minutes providing more fun, surely, is a ‘quickie’.

8/10