Scottish indie scamp Callum Easter has been doing his own strange, wonderful thing for the last few years. He’s carved out a unique niche creating a kind of oppositional glam electro-sleaze. The Leith-based multi-instrumentalist sings in a gravelly, heavily accented voice, but he can also croon sweetly. It’s this dichotomy which fuels the music, a juxtaposition of grit and tenderness. His persona and sound are inextricably linked: recently, he filmed a variety style ‘TV’ show, featuring himself as a seedy compere, unshaven in a white suit, to promote his album System. With his eccentric guest stars, it all felt like David Lynch, had he directed Trainspotting, instead of Blue Velvet.
This album, a collection of EP tracks, is a worthy addition for those new to his oeuvre. Want It Sometimes sees Easter coming on like a lairy if eloquent figure at Speaker’s Corner, baiting the rich and leaning in to our collective trauma as a nation. He sometimes channels Marc Bolan in his soulful vibrato, and the call and response between him and his glorious female backing singers brings a gospel element to tracks like Find A Way and (my personal favourite) Silhouette.
Only Easter can make an accordion sound creepy too – Imaginary People is a hellish churn and features said instrument set against a drone and lyrics about complacency. But even when he’s low-key and more gentle, as on the soft electronica track Promises, or the piano-led Feelings Gone, he can’t keep the sense of dystopia out.
Times are tough, but I think we can trust Easter – he’s round the back with a flame thrower, map of the city, and a bunker, already kitted out for impending doom. The soundtrack will be killer too.