Facing the music, there's a whole load of dancing to be done; 911 sounds akin to Devo chasing The B-52s through the ethereal delights of a vacant Woolworths pick'n'mix aisle and comes across as bratty as a Super Sweet Sixteen Toys'R'Us tantrum, AG hums with a post-punk reverence These New Puritans would've murdered for in the harsh light of day before they discovered war stories and sounds, and Creep sounds faintly reminiscent of the slurred drawls of Pete and Carl. However, the true fascination within No Great Lost lies in its foresight, its unfathomable ability to fly beneath the radar undetected, whilst predating and bettering a whole host of acts by at least twenty years. Take Saturn for instance; The Yummy Fur and in turn therefore Franz Ferdinand would be gravely indebted to Dunn, had they ever got their ears around its off-kilter maniacal Alec Ounsworth-esque shrieks. Like the Tropicana technicolour approach to Glasgow's Orange Juice, Kevin Dunn demonstrates quite precisely throughout why this retrospective release merits every second of the shelf-life it ought earn from this moment on.
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