[a]Angelica[/a] now makes seriously disturbed pop records, all chiming glockenspiels and childlike vocals and stunted, vicious guitar.
[a]Angelica[/a] was that girl in primary school, sitting at the
back of the class, wild hair and smelling of pee, who’d scratch
eyes out if she thought you were laughing at her, or perhaps for no reason at all. While you played football at break, she could be found pulling the legs off the laboratory mice, or goading the more impressionable first years into jumping in the school swimming pool with their uniforms still on. Remember her?
She grew up. But not much. [a]Angelica[/a] now makes seriously disturbed pop records, all chiming glockenspiels and childlike vocals and stunted, vicious guitar. She sounds like The Velvet Underground at their most blissed out, Belly at their most discorporate, and has perfected the fine art of warming hearts and chilling bones at the same time.