In an interview in The Guardian recently asked Neil Tennant from the Pet Shop Boys wondering to himself where the art and poetry had been in the popverdenen.
The short answer is, of course, that it is forced out of the selvfedme, sex and stupidity, but there are actually still some individuals, who uphold the old virtues.
One of the best is Robert Forster.
The australian songwriter and elegantier glisten once again ’Inferno’, which is a typical witty and album from a man who perhaps is out of touch with the spirit of the times, but in turn, writes the veteran of timeless popnumre.
Even when he’s on brash’s Inferno (Brisbane in Summer)’ sings about the home city is sweltering heatwave, he shall retain his cool glance, and the plate is an understated display in the art.
the 61-year-old Forster grew probably up with protopunk and Bob Dylan, but he is a literary minimalist in Leonard cohen’s footsteps, where every word is chosen with pedantic care.
He has an eye for everything from everyday trivialities to the cinematic familiefortællinger, and he ironiserer glorious of fame and snobbery.
Skeletagtige ’Inferno’ is crisp and beautiful in an austere production, but a richly melodic and poetic album from a fine endowment.
Forster is the good song’s guardian.
the Cover of Robert Forsters seventh solo album, Inferno, which is recorded in Berlin and produced by Victor Van Vugt.
