Review from Idwal Fisher
Trying to pin down the Posset sound is about as much a waste of time as trying to knock a nail in with a barley twist pink and white Flump. It is what it is. Our nearest point of reference would be the dictaphone meanderings of the Filthy Turd but whereas the Turded one is wont to scatter his seed hither and thither without a care for what people might call some kind of ordered recognition, Posset releases actual albums with track listings and everything.
Having long been lauded by the bearded wonder over at RFM, Possett has now landed at Idwal Towers. His audio naivete [and I mean that in the most sincerest way folks] reaches the ears sounding like a two second snatch of Nick Drake song dipped in bleach and wound around a capstan until the things fit to snap. But that is only on the opener Baden Powell. Why you would call a song that sounds like that Baden Powell I have no idea but it all seems to make perfect sense in a not very making much sense way. The stop/ffwd/rewind buttons of a tape machine are much in evidence, producing as they do murky doings of oddness as recorded in the clanking emptiness of a cellar fixed Belfast sink. Voices wash across your ears garbled and mangled into tongues unknown. Conversations recorded in pubs become strangely fascinating. Phil Minton gargles his mouth juices. Dogs slavver over your best kecks. Some of it sounds like an A Band gig as played by one person in a phone box crammed with tape recorders. For reasons I can not fathom I find this kind of recording absolutely gripping. Possett’s ability to strip ‘songs’ down to their basic core produces snippets of sound [or if you care ‘music’] that amuse and entertain, lift the mood and make the world a better place. To be played over muted screening of the X Factor for maximum effectiveness. The Bearded Wonder was right all along.