All the Queens Bovine – Bolosaurus

So, here we are again, thrown into the reliably insane world of Mr Bovine; whether it’s Queens of the Groanage or a well fed Highland Coo is hard to say; in the context of today’s musical landscape it’s certainly original.

The tag says the album is ‘mild necrocore’: whatever that actually means I’m prepared to go with it; it certainly references music from other, bygone eras.

Indeed a number of tracks wouldn’t be out of place on Strictly Come Prancing on a Saturday night: perhaps the secretive Bovines are a shadowy organisation with a cackling Brucey at the helm; here to take over the planet with programmed beats, cha-cha-chas and a fistful of sequins.

From the gentle parping in the lounge of ‘Clap the Wrasse’ to the ragtime of ‘The Thin King’ to all three slightly contemplative parts of ‘Bieter’ in the middle of the album it’s so out of step with today’s musical landscape it’s difficult to know whether to laugh or cry; it’s certainly playful and delightful and a million miles away from the earlier Fish Tank EP, which had more straightforward dancefloor destruction on its mind (though in retrospect there were hints of insanity oozing out of that too).

Marvellous fish wrasse by the way; if any slimy brute deserves a round of applause it’s one of those colourful critters.

As colourful as the creator of this singular piece of work in fact.

My mum would like this: whether that means it’s any good or not I don’t know; but I can’t say Sven Vath would find favour in the matriarchal chateau so kudos for nailing that gap in the market

Either the work of an extremely talented maverick or a lunchtime look inside the brain of a madman (something the strangulated rasp in the middle of ‘Aquamare’ suggests may be a distinct possibility).

Quiet, twanging, liltingly graceful stuff and though disconcerting it does invite one to dive in; the water’s (probably) fine.

Buy if; you need a tea dance soundtracked or possibly a rather sophisticated wedding looked after.

Don’t buy if; you’re at all concerned that the perpetrator may be insane and is probably following you.

Bolosaurus by All the Queen’s Bovine

Words: Andrew Morrison

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