Psycho Comedy - Performance Space Number One
Sometimes albums just come from nowhere, existing in a world of its own, one only its creators fully understand.
Usually debut efforts, those creators have had the luxury of time to create aural versions of their headspaces. In the case of Psycho Comedy, they’ve been operating as a band for five years with limited releases, presumably beavering away to make their debut as close a reflection of their particular headspace as possible.
Immediately attention is grabbed by the opening track, a statement of intent as you’d expect from a song named after the band; a vaudevillian warped offering (think early Horrors) that pulls open the curtain to reveal the eerie realm that we are to inhabit. If you weren’t already aware that Psycho Comedy hailed from Liverpool, you will be as soon as lyricist and frontman Shaun Powell utters his first distinctive sounds. Like their spiritual forebears The Coral, they bury the tunes as much as possible, but they still make the way to the top.
Likewise on ‘First Cousin Once Removed’, Powell channels Miles Kane against chiming guitar and garage rock that sounds fifty years out of date but wonderful for it, with a hint of Northern Soul for good measure. ‘Performance Space Number One’ could be sampling the Troggs’ classic ‘Wild Thing’ on first listen, while the galloping, sleigh bell-drenched ‘Pick Me Up’ (a recent single) has the feel and confidence of a classic, albeit one pulled from the Nuggets series.
The influences keep coming; ‘I’m Numb’ cribs the rollicking sounds of ‘Lust For Life’ but throws a surf rock guitar riff in for good measure. ‘The Hangman’ evokes ‘Peter Gunn’ with guitars clashing before giving way to a stream of consciousness from Powell. In contrast, the bass sounds like it’s operating in another realm.
Melodrama is king; the swaggering ‘We Adore You’ confrontational yet vulnerable, and ‘Sleepwalking’ advises us to ‘jettison that sunshine’. It may sound depressing, but the righteousness with which it’s delivered outweighs anything else. In contrast, the jaunty ‘Standin’’ has the melody of a bubble-gum pop track, but once again hidden beneath jangling metallic guitars. The album is broken up by short spoken word pieces (‘Island’, ‘The Theatre Came Crashing Down’) that act as brief interludes, opportunities to catch breath and escape the maelstrom of glorious noise before going again.
Psycho Comedy have taken elements from a variety of inspirations that either should have or should be more well-known: Echo & The Bunnymen, The Velvet Underground, The Cramps and The Blinders can all claim to have their fingerprints on Performance Space Number One, but the quintet have the gumption and vision to meld their influences together to create a piece of work that stands apart.
Like those influences, they are unlikely to attain mainstream success, but that’s Joe Public’s loss – these are a special secret who should only be shared with a chosen few.
Following in a fine tradition, Psycho Comedy should be Merseyside’s next great band.