Envelopes

Imagine if, after Bernard Butler’s sultry opening guitar chimes on ‘Animal Nitrate’, a heroin-thin Brett Anderson had shimmied across the stage in his girl’s blouse seductively slapping his arse with his microphone, opened his mouth and out came the croaky, wobbly bellow of Frank Black gargling an elk. Now stop imagining it – you can buy it in the shops! It’s by Envelopes and it’s rather marvellous – all sinister Suede-y surf guitars with trouble on their minds, snake-charming keyboards and the biker-gang threat of the seaside after dark. Remember to take your Factor 666.