#14: Momus – A Complete History Of Sexual Jealousy (Parts 17-24) (1988)
I’ve been sitting here awhile, attempting to channel the appropriate words to describe a Momus record. To listen is to receive a gift. A box; small, elaborately wrapped. And once you’ve flipped open the lid, sitting up from a bed of soft, vermilion material, is a nugget of the purest darkness.
An awkward and esoteric analogy, perhaps – but awkward and esoteric are apt adjectives to wield around this subject (Nick Currie’s recording name is shared, after all, with the Greek deity of sarcasm, censure and mockery). These are songs loaded with an engaging diffidence. Saccharine electro-pop flavoured with taboo, twisted idiosyncrasy, and a delicious, sprite-like turn of phrase; Momus is what Serge Gainsbourg would have sounded like if he’d been born a few decades later, with Paisley – not Paris – as the backdrop.
Signed to Creation back when McGee had a stable of lucid, original acts (and not the hairy herberts of later years), Currie released a triptych of particularly great albums in the late eighties (The Poison Boyfriend, Tender Pervert, Don’t Stop The Night; buy them). This particular track I first heard courtesy of the Creation compilation Doing It For The Kids (also featuring Felt, The House Of Love and (obviously) My Bloody Valentine; another great record – buy that too). ‘Sexual Jealousy’ is a strangely alluring track, dealing with the dynamic of relationship whilst simultaneously smearing a sinister strand of fun all over the stereo speakers. It’s a record I wouldn’t necessarily trust with a pair of scissors – and I’d argue that’s a very good state of affairs indeed.
Momus / A Complete History Of Sexual Jealousy (Parts 17-24)