As you would expect, of all that Services’ new album, ‘Eat Prey Love’, has to offer, 20JFG likes the 6 minutes long proggy instrumental best.

The rest is all very enjoyable Ballardian disjointed electro-punk that will undoubtedly add a few well needed ounces of serrated steel to the clockwork mechanisms regulating the operation of thee trendy discotheque. But then we don’t go to the trendy discotheque that often, we prefer to stay at home in a kaleidoscopic daze listening to this kind of stuff while we fantasise about the way Electroma would have been if it had been directed by Sam Peckimpah, hallucinations about a squad of world-weary chromed outlaws advancing silent across plains of an absolute emptiness blasted by the Eye of God, Zero in the binary equation of existence, eventually arriving at a village whose adobe square is filled with the music of a synthetic minuet played by a small orchestra of mechanical mariachis. This is the sound of Ratatat covering Cursor Miner’s the Sport of Kings after reading I Robot, Alan Parsons Project edition.

We think it is definitely more fun.

Services- She Made It Big In A Small Mexican Village

Last saturday, Stuart and me were on the taxi that would take our pathetic asses to the Penthouse for another odyssey of nerdiness, headbanging to the wailing of the Greek gods and so forth when I told him I had got the Jay Reatard’s collection of singles released by Matador in very nice double vinyl pack. We moved on to discuss a broad range of things pertaining to this feral savant of anthemic garage, such as his other incarnations, e..g in the machine music leatherette body of Lost Sounds, or his talent for turning what, in any other hands would be shining gems of pop perfection, into brain-damaged nuggets limping around like a three legged dog, there’s always something that goes awry, a rhythm skipping off track, pitching steering into hysteria, worlds of tinnyness, a whole gang of gremlins raucous enough to drive any producer insane, also buckets of sweat spilled and guts revolted according to the sacred cycles of Rock and Roll, i.e. the sort of shit we love so much.

Jay is our kind of guy.

Jay Reatard- Fluorescent Grey (Deerhunter Cover)

Watch him brutalising Deerhunter’s pristine ‘Fluorescent Grey’, as released in a recent split 7′‘ with them, watch him scaring away a slender butterfly that had landed on the cheek of a dreamed corpse, to then dismember the body, femur are brandished like twin drumsticks & banged fiercely against colossal mountains from whose summit a broken heart nourishes distant seas with a steady flow of thick blood, watch him, watch him.

He was raised by Fenrir, he was raised by Astarte, he had to come from Memphis, he is definitely our kind of guy.