Now then: Confidence Man. It’s a sound somewhere between the synth- and cowbell-driven electro-punk abandon of early LCD Soundsystem and Le Tigre, elevated by a sense of Beck’s genre-remixing spirit and Hot Chip’s knack for a hook, drenched in the sweet psych glaze of Jagwar Ma. Let’s not fuck about, there’s no time for that now. This four-piece from down under didn’t come here to be analysed, they didn’t come here to get heavy – they came here to get down.
If you’ve been blessed enough to see the summer’s greatest festival band live, then you’ll be chuffed to hear that their debut ‘Confident Music For Confident People’ is every bit as hedonistic and balls-out daft as the choreographed Eurovison nightmare you’ve witnessed. From opening house banger ‘Try Your Luck’ and the tongue-in-cheek, Right Said Fred brilliance of ‘Don’t You Know I’m In A Band’, Confidence Man set out their manifesto: leave your inhibitions at the door and raise the fucking roof.
“He tries to make me breakfast but I hate bacon and eggs,” mourns singer Janet Planet on the irresistible earworm of ‘Boyfriend (Repeat)’. It would sound dumb if it wasn’t carried off so shamelessly. ‘Catch My Breath’ is the best ‘90s banger that Ibiza hasn’t heard yet, and ‘Bubblegum’ does exactly what it says on the tin. Further surprises come in the form of the Madchester baggy bounce of ‘Out The Window’ and ‘Fascination’, and the devious constant crescendo of devious fucker ‘Better Sit Down Boy’.
It won’t change the world, but it will cheer you up: the comedown never comes. With a Balearic pulse and horizontal attitude throughout, this record is ready-made sunshine – MDMAzing pretension-free fun for the masses. This is the album we need in these hard times, even if we don’t deserve it. Put this record on, dance until sunrise, gurn through Brexit and rave until war is over. Now stop reading. Get the fuck down.