K Anderson describes his sound as 'lesbian music by a boy'. Quite what the singer songwriter means by such a brash comment remains unclear until you hear the sophisticated lounge funk of opener 'This Changes Everything'. It's the sort of track you'd expect to hear in the background to a 60's Mafia bar; ice-cold double basslines and twinkling piano smothered by Anderson's smouldering vocals. From the lounge bar to the club with 'Bulletproof Kids' showcasing the stylish, sensible side of Anderson's frivolity with exuberant percussion and some smart, observational lyrics on the youth of today.
After such excitement, 'High Horse' brings the comedown of mellow, downbeat acoustic guitar and Anderson's now charmingly languid vocals. Despite the title, 'Shrug' impresses from the bold drumbeats to the swaggering strut throughout until some ill-advised backing vocals that sound as if recorded straight off a mobile phone. 'Foxes' sees Anderson on the long walk home after another cheeky night out gifting further oppurtunity to offload his charismatic personal emotiveness. The effect is both disarming for the track itself but affirming in his talent for depicting his own outlook on life to such a diverse sound. Another misleading title, 'Some Kind Of Grim', finds solace in solitude to brisk acoustic guitar and gruff percussion. Whilst Anderson sings of despair, the track remains strangely upbeat; typifying the album's appeal.
Suddenly, the album turns over a new leaf with 'Boy In Pearls' displaying a newfound self-confidence to rising, sexy vocals and bountiful, backing rhythm where dance producer RNSTR shines. Tinny percussion fills the foreground over bassy drumbeats, which allows Anderson to take the limelight with well deserved aplomb. 'Don't Waste Your Arrows' is even more adventurous, filling an empty room with sedate guitar for the love-in, then smashing the serenity with crashing drums to serenade the heartbreak. Even the lyrics take a painful turn as Anderson ruefully sings 'He'll never fuck you, the way that I fucked you' you can sense the spitting disdain in his voice to a lost love.
With an almost childlike naivety, 'Spoons' charms as Anderson rests with only an acoustic guitar for company as he playfully praises the joys of... spooning. The track could easily soundtrack a nappy advert, or one of those daft, coupley mobile phone adverts such is its joy de vivre. 'T-shirt Collection' is far more unsettling as guitar meddles in the distant background to Anderson's increasingly distressing vocals, backed by a small posse of singers and an intermittent electronic hum.
Predictably 'Wear Me Down' finds the album going out on a high. Anderson finally seems uninhibited by girls or hanging musings of dread but the closing track sees him in whimsical, comical tone until the track simply stops and Anderson arrogantly trails into a monologue of wondering if a certain person is 'the one'. It is a bizarre way to finish an album but proves how experimental and reckless the Australian is. When the track re-starts, Anderson seems disinterested and amidst an Nintendo 64 game over noise, it's over.