Ivor Cutler's " A flat man" is in the shops now (or at least it should be!). It has been out on Creation earlier (1989), but is reissued and already playing on my CD-player. It's hard to dislike a man who writes poetry on very strange animals, the underside of park benches and why you shouldn't smack snow in your own face. This is minimalistic with a bit of harmonium and xylophone, and the usual mix of reading and singing. Mr Cutler's universe is absurd, fun and grotesque. This last record is perhaps a bit more mellow than the others? What an artist!
"Who's that not knocking at my door?
Nobody's not knockin' at your door"
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