For a brief moment in 1982 it seemed that you couldn’t move for roving bands of scruffy herberts dressed like tramps in ripped dungarees and neckerchiefs, playing fiddles and proclaiming (apparently completely seriously) that they were the only people who’d ever heard of Jackie Wilson. Anyhoo, after a couple of hits they vanished before resurfacing three years later with their third album.
On the plus side, they’ve managed to put on some smarter clothes and slimmed down the band to a more manageable four members. As a result the music is a little more laid back with less of the previous faux Irish too-ray-ay malarkey. On the negative side, we still get too much of Kevin Rowland’s peculiarly affected honking singing style and some left field snippets of conversation dropped in between the songs.
There’s also a very odd track complaining about everything on Radio One sounding the same (mate, other stations are available, and maybe you should have tried listening to John Peel instead of the Breakfast Show). This would have had more impact if it hadn’t just been a blatant copy of the riff from Werewolves of London by Warren Zevon (who had to be credited on later releases of the album).
Tramp-tastic!
https://album.link/gb/i/1442855292
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