There’s a grittiness in LAPP’s voice that make you want to reach for the Dyson (other cleaning devices are available) and clean it out. Half-way through the track you’ll be trying to implant back, such are the strange twists which occur during this track.
Posturing initially as a typical eazy-soul track, it switches to sleazy lounge almost imperceptibly, a wonderfully skillful move which really sets this apart from the crowd. When the saxophone kicks in towards the song’s crescendo, we’re in full red-lightbulb mode and there’s a huge temptation to pull the curtains to keep out prying eyes.
The real promise shown in this track isn’t, oddly, the voice, supremely flexible and sand-papery though it is; it’s the instrumentation, which harks back at least 40 years to bands of session musicians who could nail a take in one every single time. The greasy, succulent swagger of this song is such that if you’re not seduced, you’re already beyond resurrection.