New Musical Express
March, 2001
Underwater Moonlight
by Victoria Segal
A glorious anomaly shaped by the mercurial genius of Robyn Hitchcock, The Soft Boys generated Syd Beefheart Psychedelia at a time when it was as hip as a Cumberland reel. This Matador-sanctioned double-CD reissue of their wonderful 1980 album Underwater Moonlight plus outtakes is proof that the U.S. underground always understood Hitchcock's state of mind best: R.E.M, Flaming Lips, and Yo La Tengo have all taken this tall and excellent man to their hearts.
Tenderly abetted by guitarist Kimberley Rew, bassist Matthew Seligman, and drummer Morris Windsor, Hitchcock's songwriting makes a Freudian slip down a particularly unnerving rabbit hole, a Bacon-esque landscape of slithery things with teeth where they shouldn't be. He's often accused of quirkiness, yet the joy-spiked melodies, elegant wit and psychological depth are abundantly rewarding. The clammy stalker's delight of "Insanely Jealous" ("All I hear when they embrace is just the kiss of skulls"), the queasy symbolic infestations of "Kingdom Of Love", the pristine Byrds swoop of "Queen Of Eyes": these songs bring nun-pure harmonies into intimate contact with sexual surrealism, electrifying lust, despair in the face of a "hideous age of abuse and decay". And yes, a conversation between a curry and a corpse.
Within months, The Soft Boys had evaporated and Hitchcock embarked on his still-fascinating solo career. If you haven't heard this record, this loving reissue should redress the neglect, but it's not an act of altruism. With each purchase, you get a free ticket to a parallel universe.
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