Gary Marx is best known as the co-founder of The Sisters of Mercy, with singer Andrew Eldritch. Marx was there from day one. His trademark musical contributions provide many of the highlights on the Sisters’ early recordings. After parting ways, he went on to enjoy success with the band Ghost Dance, before they split in 1990. Since then, Marx has steered his own peculiar course as a solo artist, with this, his second offering, in which he comes full circle with 72 minutes of music, rounding off a symbolic coincidence. Marx never strays far from his influences from the 70s, the likes of Bolan and his T Rex and other glam rock luminaries who dominated the music scene for so many impressionable youngsters. This new album is spread over four sides of thick plastic, and while Gary alludes to each side having particular traits, he also points out it’s not in any way a concept album.

After the intro and soundscape of the opener, it’s more upbeat Roxy meets Bolan with the handclapping and whooping and hollering of ‘High Brighton Rock’. The album has a summer feel to it, with plenty of saxophone and swing, as the record is like a great big beaming smile, void of any baggage or stress and just wedged to bursting with top pop rock songs. Marx has a knack for knowing how to write sugar-sweet, rough-around-the-edges pop tunes in a similar vein to Nick Lowe and several other great songwriters.

There is a lot of music to get through, but just let it play and wash over you. On occasion, it dips a toe in pure pop like ‘Hang Up’, which reminds me of the lighter side of the Boomtown Rats. If modern kids wanted to know what it was like in the 70s diving into the TOTP albums and how it felt, then give em a blast of this bad boy. The title track begins with some cinematic spoken words before bursting out with a groove The Happy Mondays cooked up on a good day with a shuffle backbeat and some shakers for good measure.

There’s so much going on here as well; every play I hear another instrument that snuck in under the radar. ‘Next Stop’ sounds like a fucked up Tom Waits number if he escaped from his pain and wrapped himself in a feather boa and some stack heels. ‘Starsky And Hutch’ messed with my head like an early Depeche Mode song if they introduced distorted riffs n power chords. As it goes, I’m drawn to the last side of the album, where I think the songwriting is raised a notch or two and the album closes on a ballad that reminds me of the softer moments of a Julian Cope record. There is nothing not to like on this offering, and like I said earlier, you get a lot of bang for your buck and so many songs that keep vying for your attention over four sides of mighty fine music. Go on, treat your ears and squeeze into those sequined pants one more time and dance the night away to ‘Red Planet Blue’

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Author: Dom Daley