1985
Soak It Up!
The Rain Parade
Robyn Hitchcock And The Egyptians
London Clarendon
by Mat Snow
Tonight the mixing desk is wigging out on brown acid and those oil-wheels of sound, so delicately verdant on vinyl, were well and truly spiked. Thus Throbbing Hitchcock And The Egyptians, a triumph of mind over matter.
Though the finer detail of their appealingly unhinged Fegmania! LP got mangled in the gears, Robyn's disembodied voice and cautiously ringing guitar swam into view as primary colours.
The old Soft Boys numbers "Brenda's Iron Sledge" and "Only The Stones Remain" gainfully rollercoasted through the drainpipe sound barrier -- the latter complete with witch-doctor's octopoid arm movements -- whilst an expression of immense concentration gripped Robyn's noble features. The man's obviously a total wombat, so I shudder to think what it is about me that finds him such a source of entertainment. Is he the surrogate fetish object of a generation for whom Syd's not dead? Was god an astronaut?
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