Waiting For The Love Bus.

The Jazz Butcher seems to belong to another distant era, where we discover with delight a certain homemade pop after years of New Wave deceptions. Cornerstone of a generation which is going to give colour and body to guitars, rediscover the idea of song writing, by distilling a gentle madness which remains his own, Pat Fish, for these reasons will be eternally thanked.

But it must be said that the old chap has decline in the last years, releasing average records followed by others even weaker, to end up only existing through a handful of faithful. The others, those who have quit the scene since Fishcotheque, will perhaps this time come back into the fold - by nostalgia or amusement - it doesn't matter - and shouldn't regret the move.

Yes, Waiting for the love bus is a good album. Not a work of art where we surprise ourselves on each listen, but a good album none the less. Having passed the obligatory de-greasing, 2 or 3 tracks get the album off the ground - a good old family boogie like in the damp basements of Le Havre or Boston and after we have done the Velvet Underground 70 - OK??, the rest is of high quality.

In fact 4 songs, in the middle of the record, but 4 which we are going to wear out, with Whaddya?, beautiful and sad which it's bits of organ gathered by light sweeps of a tempo which seems like a muffled whisper. Followed by Sweetwater and Ghosts, much more up beat, where the perfect choruses will give the Butcher the certains Mini Hits which have deserted him lately. Baltic tops off this little series and imposes itself like a driven in nail to show this return to form, with its Baroque waltz melody where even the guitars end up sounding like a harpsicord. After this the purring can continue and finish in comfortable indifference, these fours songs will have been enough satisfy you.

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