Brett Anderson

Love Is Dead (Drowned In Sound)

Hang on to your fairy-wings ’cos the crown ponce of pop is back (let’s ignore The Tears, shall we?). Dishing out the same cod sixth-form poetry we loved him for when he was less paunchy, Brett’s solo effort is rather decent. We’re as shocked as you, seeing as it’s just a stringed-up ballad for lonely goths who like to weep into their port and lemon in the Dublin Castle pub of a Tuesday.