I have a neighbour who dresses 'retro'. He has lurid tank-tops, the kind not seen since the days of Swapshop. He has shirts with collars so wide and pointy that he looks like someone has put a pickaxe through his neck. Best of all are the beige, flared slacks to round off his usual ensemble. I just don't have the heart to tell him that his mismatched outfit came from the woman's section of a Kay's catalogue.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all for cherry picking from the past and finding new ways to put the pieces together. Unfortunately Andy Stone seams to have been locked away with nothing but a Merseybeat compilation CD, and a free one from a tabloid newspaper at that. Or else he has as much taste as my neighbour.
"Hindsight" is fluffy and the twangy guitar makes me think of the end of an episode of The Monkees where our 'heroes lark about on some beach, splashing each other as the closing titles flash up. And the repeated "Hindsight, Hindsight" becomes more irritating than "I know a song which will get on your nerves, get on your nerves". 'It's Love' is all harpsichord and tambourine, Byrd like harmonies, and, as an added nail in the coffin of originality, cello. The only track that nearly breaks the mould is "Magic Alex", although it still has enough Lennonesque references to wonder if Andy has heard of the 21st century (or the 80s and 90s for that matter). Add a Liverpuddlian twang to Andy's thin, nasal vocals and the illusion of time travel would be complete.
About as challenging and satisfying as beating up a Jehovah Witness, this is a bland collection with no weight in the songs, arrangements or sound and has all the imagination of a black and white paint by numbers set. At least the Rutles were funny.