Bat And Ball
Stops My Mouth (Hospital Samples/Kissability)
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The electro shudder of the xx runs through this like a chromosomal abnormality, but it's got ideas of its own, too. Piano down a well? Check. Sexy ghost harmonies? Check. Duet break underscored by wasps? Che… Uh, what checklist is this, exactly? "Your name stops my mouth/ It's dangerous", sings Abi Sinclair, to an ex, or maybe Voldemort, over a lithe chop-funk bassline. Sadder than the changing of the seasons, yet bouncier than Russell Brand let loose in a sorority dorm.
ALSO OUT THIS WEEK
Human Pyramids
Relapse (Three Mile Town)
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If Pandora's box was opened and all the bad stuff flew out, leaving only Hope, a Balkan brass band, classical string quartet and a 25-piece human choir, that would be Relapse. This multi-instrumental, slightly demented meld of choral harmony, noodling bass and pizzicato strings is the aural equivalent of medicalised happiness. As joyful as a labrador dreaming of a field of bones, while obliquely hinting at darkness, like a field of bones.
Augustines
Now You Are Free (Votiv/Caroline International)
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A sensitive belter from these wet-eyed Brooklynites, both masculine and emotive, a boxer feeding a baby horse. "What am I running from?/ Myself and everyone", Billy McCarthy cry-roars over epic guitars, like a lion empathising with the thorn he's just crushed underpaw. His throat is so open it surely leads directly into his heart, which will make cholesterol a real issue later in life. Try grilling or steaming foods instead of frying, and increase aerobic activity.
Pitbull Feat GRL
Wild Wild Love (Polo Grounds Music/Mr 305/RCA)
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A profound meditation on man's relationship to time, the universe and the divine, loosely adapted from TS Eliot's Four Quartets… Sorry, not really. Wild Wild Love is uninspired rap dribble, the memory of which evaporates immediately after listening, as does piss on a hot bonnet. The confused video features Pitbull assuming ownership of the Playboy mansion and relocating it to Miami. My main thoughts on it are that he has a head like a Tunnocks tea cake, but emptier.
Molly
Children Of The Universe (Warner Bros)
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Representing your country at Eurovision has the same dubious cachet as tribute duty in The Hunger Games. But Molly Smitten-Downes somehow reworked 1997 Euro hit Encore Une Fois into chart success in 2008, and so might win. "We're all children of the universe/Dancing on the edge of time", she squawks here, as the song careens into the harbour of negative credibility. Of course, if the UK does win, hosting the EU bore-off will cripple the economy and we'll all be eating dog food this time next year. May she be smitten down indeed.
