Seven years after their wonderfully warped debut, Sheffield’s The Moonlandingz—now the core trio of Dean Honer, Adrian Flanagan, and the captivating Lias Saoudi (aka Johnny Rocket)—have crash-landed back on Earth with their new album, No Rocket Required. This potent cocktail of glitter-dusted disco and profound philosophical musings is served with a sly smirk and a hefty dose of something illicit. This sophomore effort plunges listeners into their uniquely skewed worldview, marking a welcome and refreshingly unconventional return.
The sonic journey kicks off with the brisk, squelchy energy of “Some People’s Music,” a gloriously cantankerous broadside aimed at musical purists. Picture your most curmudgeonly relative’s social media tirade, set to a groove so infectious it could spark a dance party in a morgue. Ewen Bremner’s laid-back spoken delivery unexpectedly erupts into a “Trainspotting”-esque rant, introducing the band’s signature blend of the absurd and the astute. This uncanny ability to fuse the bizarre with genuine emotional resonance forms the shimmering core of the album’s brilliance, navigating a landscape of dystopian anxieties with a surprisingly playful and often funky approach across its concise 39 minutes.
“The Sign of a Man” struts onto the scene as an early standout, delivering a wonderfully arch and louche take on Studio 54 Hi-NRG. With synth-pop credentials polished enough for any discerning dancefloor, it also includes lyrical gems like the geographically astute line, “I’ve been to Cardiff, that’s in Wales.” This ensures that their commitment to joyous absurdity remains intact, with Saoudi embodying a persona that straddles the line between Divine and Patrick Cowley. When the formidable Nadine Shah graces the sleazily seductive “Roustabout,” the album truly hits its stride, showcasing The Moonlandingz’s ability to craft genuinely sophisticated pop. Her spoken Tyneside delivery adds a layer of gritty intimacy to the band’s warped auditory universe, culminating in a nightmarishly woozy, almost operatic haze.
The enduring magic of No Rocket Required lies in its defiant refusal to be pigeonholed. The album gleefully straddles the blurry line between serious artistic intent and sublime, almost Dadaist ridiculousness. Jessica Winter’s guest appearance on the saccharine pop track “Stink Foot” provides a moment of unexpected sweetness. Meanwhile, the arrival of punk icon Iggy Pop on the raw and world-weary “It’s Where I’m From” offers a masterclass in stark contrast, as his gravelly croon drifts over instrumentation as delicate as a forgotten memory.
The album culminates in the sprawling, nearly ten-minute “Krack Drought Suite (Parts 1-3),” a psychedelic journey through an apocalyptic South Yorkshire narrated by Rocket, evoking a bizarre blend of Richard Burton, Laibach, and Mark E. Smith.
Ultimately, No Rocket Required is a tightrope walk between sheer genius and utter madness, and the exhilarating thrill lies in The Moonlandingz’s ability to embody both at the same time. This gloriously unhinged and fiercely intelligent album captures the distinctly odd flavour of Sheffield, delivering a potent and often catchy mix of dystopic electronica infused with their signature dark humour and astute social commentary. It’s a welcome and refreshingly unconventional return from a band boldly facing a potentially bleak future with a wry smile and a compellingly strange soundtrack.
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