More jaunt than you can shake a Grand National at and more dubious jumpers than a Butlins-themed Nightmare Before Christmas,
Dutch Uncles probably oughtn't exist in this day and age, this day being lined with sunlight that looks as though it's never to dissolve and this age being 2011. Bask in Fragrant for 2008, X-O for 2007, and eponymous opener Cadenza for admittance into some befuddling rabbit hole of wonk that's pretty much devoid of such superficial era labelling. Read wonk, not wank as in amidst the omnipresent time signature jolts and guitar jangles lies treasure, the roughest of off-kilter melodic jewellery. Bereft of cocksure bravado and enlarged pupil euphoria, if it's taxing enough tracing time signatures and ages, their geographical origin of Manchester is equally inconspicuous as they hurtle through their introductory offering on Memphis Industries with veritable aplomb. The scaly Sting is redolent of Alexis Taylor's deadpan vocal delivery writhing in mood swing with Tyondai Braxton, whilst Ocduc recalls Chilly Gonzales at his most startlingly staccato. Granted, Foalsish guitars gallivant in on and equate into most numbers, and Dolli is seemingly quirk for quirk's sake, queasily evocative of Crouch End weeds Bombay Bicycle Club, yet the result to the algebraic-esque equations that formulate much of Cadenza intermittently result in a resounding "fuck yes" as on the sumptuous Orvil and least closer-like closer Zalo. Occasionally congested with somewhat contrasting ideas, were Dutch Uncles not seemingly continuously attempting to euchre the casual listener with cunning and wit, they could quite conceivably have been ushered into the family of revered, or at least cult contemporary artistry this time around.
