Round about this time, It always happens. Round about this time every year, Spectres turn up late to the feast and mess up the best aid plans of man, beast and sad blokes like me who are onlytrying to compile End of Year Albums of the Year that no one else is particulaly interested in. Probably not even other sad blokes who are too busy compliling their own.
This year Kim Deal is in front of the latecomers queue. She's always been trouble that Kim. Since Pixies turned up decades ago to kick start the Nineties and wake up David Bowie and make him realise he wasn't dead yet and might have something else to offer.
Kim always had that surly look about her. As if she's just turned up half anhour at detention hall in some Eighties Brat Pack movie. Chewing gum. Flicking V signs at the man.Now in 2025 I imagine she probably does less drugs. But she was always the tough chick with the tender soul. The one that was going to break your heart,
But you wouldn't know it from a cursory listen to her new album Nobody Loves You More. It's seven shades of the kind of fun you thought had been made illegal by now. Fortunately Kim as ever evaded the sentences, This is wonderful stuff, Destined for countless hearts
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