Flunk
For Sleepyheads Only
Beatservice/VME
4,5/5

Norway is on a roll. There's been the wayward electronic jazz mayhem of Jaga
Jazzist, the classy electronica of Kim Hoirthoy, and the smooth blend of breaks,
electronica and nu jazz that is Slopho. And now there's Flunk. One producer, one
guitarist, one vaguely Bjork-ish vocalist, and apparently, one too many beer and
curry fuelled nights leisurely crafting this unfolding, sumptuous sound oddessy.

Put aside if you will, all the times you’ve ever smugly mocked the Scandinavians
for their naff appropriations of British pop culture. For this time, geographical
distance has an advantage: Flunk have simply pilfered the styles they genuinely
love, without being subconsciously swayed by any electroclashed media storms in
tea cups. Hence, they’ve expertly melded disparate strands whilst managing to
glide and slink their way into a state of bliss. No cabaret pile up here folks.

Opening with «I Love Music», we get a classy melange of hip-hopping orchestral
lushness and subtle funk that gradually becomes infused with the spirit of roots
dub. Next up is «Blue Monday» - yes THAT «Blue Monday». Normally, taking on
one of New Order's finest moments would be an act of insanity - but Flunk twist
it into Southern fried yearning with their gentle guitar acoustics, rolling beats
and kooky, soul-folk singing. They showcase the song as the classic piece of
songwriting that it is, yet radically reinvent it too.

Elsewhere those elfin blues vocals compliment «Miss World», where Massive Attack
moodiness is injected with Spanish chordings and gliding strings.

Despite the title of the exotic, chilled funk of «Kebab Shop 3AM», we get the
perfect soundtrack to cruise through the heat haze of a long dusty open road.
«Syrupsniph» meanwhile utilises touches of atmospheric guitar twangs melded to
minimalist Bristolian moodiness. Getting the picture? Flunk simply follow their
desires and craft sounds around them. Occasionally you even think you’re hearing
tinges of Neil Young, latter day Cocteau Twins, John Barry or Serge Gainsbourg -
like ghostly presence’s that momentarily appear before dissipating into the ether.
Crazy, I know. What we’re actually hearing of course, is the distillation of Flunk's
wide range of influences into one seamless whole. So much so, that each listener
will probably hear something unique. Flunk, we can be sure, are music obsessives
with a virtual library of sound, NOT dance heads inanely nodding to four to the floor.

«For Sleepyheads Only» might not be a boundary shifting’ slice of sonic innovation,
and it's true that other releases on these pages - Daedelus for example - are far
more out there. But for once, that’s beside the point Flunk get «Album of the Issue»
status simply because this is a classy ride possessed of an honesty and beauty that's
refreshingly devoid of any cynicism or posturing. What's more, they are the missing
link between Bristol, Jamaica, Norway, and North and South America. Heat dust and
polar ice become one, and a hundred emotions are gently uttered in the process.
This is downbeat sophistication that screws the zeitgeist with a capital F.
Gal Détourn

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