Even if you didn’t love Deacon’s fourth album it’d still snuggle up close to you and embrace you in a strong bear hug you couldn’t escape from, it’d still brush your face tenderly and tell you how beautiful your eyes are, it’d listen to your opinion on why you don’t love it and still pay for your bar bill while you weren’t looking. Luckily this is all deeply hypothetical because there’s absolutely no freaking way on God damn Earth that you wouldn’t fucking adore this album. It’s batshit mental, but in a gloriously controlled and deliberate way, utilising such a rich musical palate that letting it wash through you is the lushest thing you’ve done to your ears since you decided to attach kittens to your ear buds when you last cleaned them out. DD seems to have discovered a special kingdom underneath the synth stabs and reverb that is sheer splendour to spend 44 minutes prancing around inside. He obviously can’t decide whether to be a portrayer of dance bangers or throw out arty minimalism more beloved by the intellectuals and so simply tries to do both, some of the songs here sound simply like the two approaches played on top of each other and it works magnificently. An utterly life-affirming experience.
‘Fun’ Fact: Deacon’s initials- DD- are also the name of a rather large bra-size
Wh… Really? That’s your fact? Ah come on, while listening to ‘Feel the Lightning‘ it’s impossible for either me to think straight or for you to stay angry