Alex Cameron - 'Candy May'

Alex Cameron is a raconteur. At some point in a dark, vaguely gold room I definitely saw a performance of brilliant new song 'Candy May'. At least I saw it in-between his part-monologue part-stand up, part-art performance - that enticed and enthralled an increasingly rowdy crowd.

In our Best of 2016 Restrospective, we called Cameron's, "bleached, seedy, squelching Jumping The Shark... a brilliant tour alongside the ever-popular anti-hero figure. It's a pulsing, thrilling tour-de-force that came out of nowhere".

'Candy May' certainly lives up to the billing - though its a far less queasy affair it's nonetheless intoxicating. Full of swagger Cameron is in genuine crooner mode rather than the drunk imagined bar singer we got to know on Jumping The Shark.

Reverberating drums snap and crack alongside a dull, heavy bass line as Cameron details a typically poisonous, unsustainable relationship. At first it feels drenched in 70s nostalgia, yet there is something timeless, and completely earnest about this utterly danceable, broken anthem. 

The first track off new album Forced Witness is a certainly a little more Future Islands than Todd Rundgren - indeed when that Molloy Sax cuts in at Candy May’s zenith it might be Cameron’s most accessible hit-ready track to date.

With now trademark humour and honesty balanced perfectly once more on 'Candy May', Cameron's mask slips momentarily - only to reveal what was already there before. It's bold, brash music that finds microscopic specificity in its lilting meaning. In an era of public shaming, Cameron's sincere confessions are the ultimate u-turn, and the best tonic for dark times.

"I never wanted to look sharp down the barrel of a broken heart
So I live with a deep regret of what I do on the internet".