The day that we’ve all been dreading has finally arrived. No, we haven’t become real people or indeed a threat to general/good society (although that depends on your definition of “real”, “threat”, “good” and also whether or not you’ve seen our hair lately. We be feral as fuck yo, but this is commonly referred to as “wintering”). Brace yourselves – the blood internet at the office has packed in. Knackered. Kaput. No nothin’. Poor Laurel has been cast back into the dark ages – seriously, she’s reading books and shit like that, whereas we’re left dwindling and pondering as to what exactly the fuck you’re supposed to do or indeed what did we do before we plugged our brain, soul and wallet into the information superhighway – whereas we have done the bold thing and worked from home. We are bloody loving this. We have everything we need within ten paces of our current location. And, ladies and gentledudes, our current location is of course our bed. This is fucking incredible. Given just how in situ we are at this moment in time, today seemed like a real good day to fire out all manners of contracts alluding to a certain release which we do every so often with a certain tall-ass Scottish man-friend of ours. The issue with firing out several dozen compilation licenses at a time is that inevitably, and as it should be, a lot of different people have a lot of different questions alluding to the who, the what, the when, the where, but hardly ever the why. Appropriate soundtracking by way of artist name, and we guess indeed track title, comes from these people Fine Print. It’s like everything is going our way today. We just thunk that we needed a Track Of The Day not 15-20 minutes ago, then lo and indeed behold, an email from this lot solves our problem before it has even become one. From what we can briefly tell (we’ve got a call in about 10 minutes, then once we have spoken we must prepare our horse for we ride to the Kings Head), these guys like playing the mystery game. As in no one really knows much about who they are, despite near-immediate proppage from basically-industry-wank-mag NME and elsewhere who paid particular attention to the employ of a saxophone and possibly other wind-based instrumentation on previous offering About You. From what we have heard just now, Can’t Lie nicely leads on from where About You left off, which is into super-modern production by way of R’n’B vibing. Our well-rested mind is comsumed by the more soulful moments of Plan B, the way-more-recent R’n’B-ness of Years & Years (look it up, they weren’t like that a couple of, um, years ago) and the sleekness of dance-duo-wh0-no-one-else-seems-to-remember New Look. Upon listening to this, we mean. Usually our mind is consumed by something very different from what we just said.
Fine Print – Can’t Lie