Veneer and Vamp make up a double album, part instrumental, part vocal, that British composer Graham Fitkin calls “a kind of urban symphony”. Influences include Labelle, Sly and the Family Stone, the early Jacksons, but it’s all classic Fitkin, from the punchy names (previous works include Flak, Cud, Pawn, Hook) to the low-fi disco vibe. There’s chintz and irony, knowing nods to lounge and muzak and a general thrust of clanging post-minimalism inherited from Fitkin’s teacher Louis Andriessen. Nervy backbeats fizzle behind warped waltzes that the Fitkin Band delivers po-faced, like a jewellery box containing a pop-up Gypsy band instead of a ballerina. Melanie Pappenheim channels a sweet-breathy Astrud Gilberto cool on the vocals of Veneer, but Vamp’s burly dance drive starts to feel forced: the cleanness and straightness of it all, the soloing that isn’t quite brash enough, the peppy rhythms that simmer rather than scald.
