From one album to another, Baxter Dury has created an image of the damaged dandy, a sort of Gainsbourgian Cockney drunk with a bit of Bowie and Roxy Music, a little bit lost and libidinous but incredibly touching and charismatic. On this sixth album (not tincluding his recent collaboration with Étienne De Crécy), he resurfaces, still as beautifully lost as ever. Over 10 tracks totalling barely 30 minutes, Dury serves up the groovy, sexy mix that suits him so well. Supported by a warm, funky bass and lascivious rhythms, coloured with synthesized strings, some piano and caressing guitar notes, the crooner of those nights that never end takes us on his wanderings, telling us, with nonchalance but in a very vivid way, about his setbacks, failures, illusions, and acid observations. This dive into the life of a magnificent loser, in love and a little jealous, is further fleshed out through the voice of his backup singers, sometimes playing the role of the ex who doesn’t give a damn anymore, sometimes scornful or pitying. Without straying from his comfort zone and always a little voluntarily in the shadow of his late father, the very theatrical Ian Dury, Baxter polishes his art to a brilliant shine here.
