[3] Black Grape, ‘Reverend Black Grape’

Junior was agog as her dad performed the Bez dance with a finesse hitherto unexpected. The inflatable ring is the perfect vantage point for appreciating both music and performance. She slapped her hands on the sides and gave panda a quick spin to the rumbustious verses; they’ll be happy memories if she’s not scarred for life.

This record is more bananas yet more direct than anything the Happy Mondays released. Ideas fly all over the shop, Kermit declaims like an acid casualty possessed, the lyric is hilariously crazed. There is a message, mind you. Beyond the tangents and flights of fancy, there are irreverent barbs at the corruption of organised religion, with TV evangelists and the Vatican getting it in the neck. What happened to fat lady wrestlers, Shaun?

Unhinged ad libs, bellowed choruses and frantic harmonica see the song to a close. The head’s spinning; time to bring it down a notch.

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