{"product_id":"0759718518122-invisible-girl","title":"Invisible Girl","description":"\u003cmeta content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\" http-equiv=\"Content-Type\"\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003cspan\u003eREVIEW \u003cbr\u003e It may be the name of a Hindu god, but this duo imbues Anala, the name of the opening track of their third album, with a filthy innuendo that’ll have you reaching for the scrubbing brush. Or is that just me? With its saccharine, doo-wop backing melody, clammy hand-claps and grubby rhythms, this is a different proposition to the tight-bottomed funk of Khan’s side-stepping, tambourine-walloping band of unlikely rock‘n’roll mercenaries King Khan \u0026amp; The Shrines. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s not that the Germany-based Indo-Canadian necessarily requires such show-stopping backing; his dynamite yelping and RnB balladeering is clearly modelled on James Brown – and it’s not a bad likeness at all. And Khan, after all, is a man whose lewd behaviour has got himself banned from so many clubs he makes the notoriously dissolute Black Lips – with whom he and BBQ collaborated on their Almighty Defenders project earlier this year – look like Taylor Swift. Still, here his vocals only play a supporting role to those of BBQ, aka Mark Sultan, Khan’s old sparing partner in Canadian garage delinquents The Spaceshits. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eComparisons with Sam Cooke may be a little ambitious, but on the schizoid lament Third Ave., Sultan is a teen idol gone to seed, a smacked-up post-Teenager In Love Dion DiMucci, the track’s delicate arpeggios occasionally dissolving into sludgy guitars and misfiring organs. And rather than The Shrines’ brass-punctured soul, this is bittersweet pre-Beatles pop sparked into life by Nuggets-style garage, and Velvets-forged noise-pop. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrom the ringing folk of the title track, through surf, bubblegum and dead-eyed trash, King Khan \u0026amp; BBQ Show’s reverence for early pop is so strong they’re eye-winking subversives not karaoke kings. Indeed: this is the perfect soundtrack to Daniel Johnston’s stalked-eyed snails and demonic infant cartoons; hugely talented, endearing and a little disturbing. Though Sultan’s rudimentary time-keeping becomes a little wearing now and again, Invisible Girl packs a mightier blow than what might be expected from two garage throwbacks jamming in a Berlin bunker. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo pre-Beatles spoof, it’s nevertheless fun, the record’s flat production making nonsense, goofy tracks such as Animal Party sound like a Pebbles album being blasted on a Dansette – next door. --Nadine McBay\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFind more music at the BBC This link will take you off Amazon in a new window\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/span\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Rarewaves","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":53597929537910,"sku":"0759718518122","price":14.09,"currency_code":"GBP","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0092\/7504\/8033\/files\/orig_680559_19305076_20241114082101.jpg?v=1731657776","url":"https:\/\/www.rarewaves.com\/products\/0759718518122-invisible-girl","provider":"Rarewaves.com","version":"1.0","type":"link"}