Thriller is the sound of shrewd and lewd cosmic brass sections invading the claustrophobia of Spectrum, as paranormal frequencies get tangled up in pulsating shards of choral guitar, title track Polaroïd/Roman/Photo a lost intergalactic disco classic scribbled beneath flittering Gallic lyrics that flirt with a sultry incoherency, and She Brings The Rain, a murky Can cover, is a mangled, alluring slice of dirge and delight. Mabelle is oh-so-French it reeks of brie fried in shallots and speckles of rusted Tour Eiffel, and ascends throughout to a terrifyingly electric hysteria fueled by flutes and a marauding bassline Liquid Liquid would headbang bongos for. Mots is menacing, as horns return, trapped in a web of strained, falsetto-stained Francophonic vocals and arpeggiated synths that blip about like awry Pong shots, whilst Tu M'ennuies plods away in monologue, chipping away at reality and rationality as a piercing hook loops behind synthetic seagull gulps. So as drum machines thud metallically amidst the sterility of Brian Eno-shaped soundscapes, and metronomic rhythms akin to the innards of a Pentax contracting and relaxing collide, a striking sense of contemporary relevance is achieved and contemplations consider what'd happen were Polaroïd/Roman/Photo transcribed to concurrent times. Or perhaps the wonderment within is due to its etching into a distant, inalterable past free from tarnish, safe from harm. The certainty is that if RUTH represents the aural equivalent of a flashover dementia, retirement can't come soon enough...
