Everyone has somewhere to be even if that place is nowhere. That might verge on nihilism but perhaps I’m not that only that thinks that for “Coocoo Banana” by Lizzy Young is nothing less than recited directions to the street where monotony lives.
This is, of course, something of a stylistic choice with everything locked to the loop in the best lo-fi traditions whilst flatly intoned incantations are recited as if all past and future passion had been pharmaceutically suppressed and replaced with the power of the chant. The resulting effect, however, is rather more hypnotic than the cold as ice presentation might indicate with Lizzie Young’s sliced lyrical sensibilities giving all that is here a thorough dusting of square peg in a round hole seasoning.
Are there songs to sing on this album? Not really. The Lizzy Young way isn’t the way of conformity and, while she occasionally drifts into our frame of reference, her voice is truly that of the outsider. If art had actually survived its collision with the 21st century then Lizzie Young would be in a gallery somewhere. Of that I am sure.