Liam Hayes is a man out of time. Stumbling across Slurrup in the vinyl stacks at a charity shop would feel like a small miracle: it has guitar melodies that glow waxen yellow; chugging, Who-style riffs; zinging backwards chords; a meaty story straight out of Tales of the Unexpected and a tender murmur to a “pretty darling” who needs a morale boost. As a new-mint release in 2015, however, it’s less persuasive. There are all sorts of oddnesses about this record, from the nonsense hammering at a keyboard in the middle to the nauseating minute of slurping sounds with which it ends – think slush puppy lapped from a dog’s bowl. Greenfield starts in relaxed, soulful mood, rippling keyboards backing a plaintive vocal – but then you notice that Hayes is singing about lost receipts and looking for “the grocery store with imitation meat” and the swooning turns to a shrug. More than once, Slurrup is reminiscent of albums by comedian/musician Matt Berry (surely a fan) – but Hayes comes across as too earnest to quite make the funny stuff work.
