Psapp Tiger, My Friend

The fact that Grey's Anatomy hasn't made a household name out of Galia Durant the way that the iPod has with Feist or Skins did with Beth Ditto could be said to be nothing short of a tragedy. With the best will in the world, though, it's hardly a mystery, as this reissue amply demonstrates; after all, Let It Die and That's Not What I Heard may have been decidedly leftfield affairs, but they might as well have been the work of X Factor winners compared to this...

You see, prior to Psapp's ostensible breakthrough with 2006's The Only Thing I Ever Wanted, they were strictly a critics' band, partly because, with this album, they allowed the creation of a whole new genre: toytronica. Admittedly, that's a genre that arguably has its roots in the live escapades of Pram and Dawn Of The Replicants and has yet to inspire enough bands to fill a Track & Field all-dayer, but that shouldn't detract from the fact that Tiger, My Friend genuinely feels like a pioneering work. It starts absurdly hesitantly with the ironic tumbleweeding of Northdown Flat #1, but goes on to seduce through stealth like no album we can recall since The Decline Of British Sea Power. It takes in dance music as reimagined by reversing vehicles, copious cat-spawned squawkings, alarming false endings, and even, oh yes, some exciting guiro action. And let's not kid ourselves about this - all of that could so very easily have lapsed into the kind of self-indulgence that's blighted a whole raft of defiantly chart-averse indie over the years, and it's a credit to Psapp that they were actually able to forge something so wholly inviting.

There's a weirdly irascible melodic tendency and captivatingly naïve sincerity to them throughout, which means that, while titles such as Rear Moth or Velvet Pony might hint at a fondness for juvenilia, it's terrifically tempered, and the sweepingly bleak reach of Leaving In Coffins or pops'n'clicks odyssey King Kong display a disconcertingly broad emotional palette and exude a wonderfully knowing cognitive dissonance. Moreover, Durant's vocals were always startling, conjuring up the mid-point between Laetitia Sadier and Tracey Thorn, and it's put to superb use on the two outstanding tracks here. About Fun is a terribly spirited noise fiesta that delights in keyboard-kicking yet still oozes unlikely faux-Gallic chic, while The Counter is essentially a torch song that, oddly, indicates that they're actually capable of being conventional in strikingly convincing fashion.

Of course, it could be argued that there's often a sense of disposability to proceedings, which may have contributed to them being such dark horses in the first place, and it's unfortunate that at this stage they hadn't yet - and, to a degree, still haven't - managed to entirely capture the bracingly comical joie de vivre that characterises them on stage. Nonetheless, hindsight shows Tiger, My Friend as an unfairly underrated hint at things to come, and proof positive that Psapp were, in fact, blossoming from the word go.