Secretaire: Pineapples

Perhaps no-one told Secretaire that artists usually spread their songs out, over the course of an album or two.

They didn’t listen even if they were told. Today’s new band are ADHD-made -flesh, or the logical conclusion of what happens when a group of individuals obsess over more ideas than they have time to play with.

The more-is-more ethos displayed in Prick On The Racetrack to be admired wholeheartedly: just as a pineapple is actually a collection of fruitlets that form a whole, this song is a constantly rotating, mutating, splicing, dividing collection of song-chunks.



And so when the vocals begin two-thirds of the way through the song, the effect is disconcerting: having constructed a song from their odd building blocks – disconnected cubes of noise – suddenly it all gains focus, as if 15 TV screens de-blur and reveal the same image suddenly and simultaneously.

The song wanders off again – but now we understand. Weirdly, Secretaire have forced us to listen in the manner they choose. Obtusely fascinating.

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