If Dinoflagellate Blooms was a child, it would be Elphaba from Wicked: all spiky angles and razor-sharp teeth. Obviously brilliant and intriguing, but brittle and bleak and lacking in warmth.
Taking Wallace Wylie’s advice, I acknowledge I’m clearly too emotionally attached to JG Thirlwell’s many aliases, and should expose any failings and hold them up to the light, but I can never bring myself to do it. I just politely leave a gap where any mention of YORK should be and move swiftly on to the next one. That’s, what, one bad album in 30 years? Besides, there’s nothing much to say about it: that was many years ago and since then Thirlwell’s released records faster than I can review them and all of them have been wonderful. Until now? Continue reading