Andy Votel has been knocking around the UK blunted beatz scene for a while now, and for the most part, he's not been just another stoner stinking up post-production studios with antique Adidas purchased online from a Shibuya-based retro-chic boutique. Since his 1995 remix of Mr Scruff's "Sea Mammal," Votel has achieved acclaim for turning Badly Drawn Boy from a thrift-store Jamiroquai into an award-winning George Harrison substitute.
Setting aside the arrogance of the title, the seven tracks on this EP offer no great leaps in form, no turning of the tables of the money changers, no brave new vistas for the rest of us cloth-eared schlubs to follow on wide-eyed. The blunted beats here have long since made their way into the vernacular of TRL-pop and high-cost consumer durable commercials.
After a brooding start, the rinky-dink Rosemary's Baby melody of "Urbanite Rocks" rides through a devastated cityscape where malformed infants cruise around in leper-pushed carriages in search of parents, sources of nourishment, and sunlight. "Girl on a GoPed" renews Votel's partnership with Jane Weaver in a Pram-for-Dido-fans style. Weaver kittenishly purrs about a "slinky little number" while Votel frames her in chiming glockenspiels, the revving sounds of Vespas, and dollar-store organ lines.
The conservatoire-trained, romantically swollen pianist who drops in and out of "Return of the Spooky Driver" is stubborn against the blasting surf guitar punks that intend to rid the planet of such academic prettiness. Can the two reconcile their differences? Is this track big enough for both styles? Votel fades the song out with the punks. Who knows where the pianist's body has been dumped?
If the Coen Brothers feel like following up the bluegrass adventures of Ulysses Everett McGill, what better theme song could they wish for than the jaunty banjo twang and xylophone clank of "Pickpocket?" And the ostentatious production of "Diode" allows us a glimpse of what Tortoise might sound like if they recorded for Grand Central. Along identical lines, "Doe-Eyed" is the fuzzy gamelan of Macha packaged for the sneaker-conscious. Styles then closes with Lee Gorton's world-weary, work-shy, cello-accompanied vocals on the oddly constricted "RiderBrow."
Styles of the Unexpected does little to rid me of the notion that Votel's sole intent behind it was to release something-- anything-- on 10-inch vinyl. Having been recently discovered as God's preferred format for the storage of musical information, Votel likely thought he'd give the Old Man something new to stroke his gray beard to. Knowing that Speaka's far more worthy Bespoke album couldn't be fit on anything less than a 12", Votel felt as though these seven tunes would ring out as sound as a pound. I don't want to speak for God in this matter-- after all, he has his own unique ways of displaying favor or annoyance-- but I'll keep Bespoke spinning long after the so-called Styles of the Unexpected have worn out their meager novelty.
