THE LAST WEREWOLF 10/10 review in Subba Cultcha

The Real Tuesday Weld
Songs For The Last Werewolf

Perfect and dazzling latest release from the Clerkenwell Kid and his band of Merry Men – The Real Tuesday Weld – return with part-theatrical retelling of the Glen Duncan Book THE LAST WEREWOLF and part mythical Musical mystery tour through genres and rabbit-holes eternal…

Label: Antique Beat

The Real Tuesday Weld

In its purest form Music should be the key to psychic associations.
This song remind me of this time because…
The time was soundtracked by this artist and these songs were the reason…

Music should be a resonant, reminding us of what is good and bad and magical about life and memory and this ridiculous folly we call Life.
As such, some artists and musicians mean more to me than some of my real friends.
They remind me of times when I succeeded, times I wish to forget but will never do so – because of a section or lie from a song or an album or a burst of a chorus or verse, Musical membranes wrapped around my cerebral cortex and slowly stroking the pain away or prodding home the point…

The Real Tuesday Weld are a band that I hold in such massive esteem that I often refer to them as “My Band”. Mine, no one else’s, these songs were created and written and recorded and released for me and no one else.
From the moment I first heard Bathtime In Clerkenwell from the I, LUCIFER soundtrack I was hooked – however it was the brilliant “La Bete et La Belle” that stole my heart and soul and forever indebted me to their brilliance.
I had the book of I, LUCIFER bought for me by a then Girlfriend (one of the only genuinely happy memories of her) and read how there was a soundtrack for the book – a Novel concept which – upon hearing, was a life changing and eye opening exercise.

We were set to use BATHTIME IN CLERKENWELL as a piece in a film I was making at the time, then the lucozade Advert exploded into the public consciousness and I cried for about a week…

The Real Tuesday Weld have survived as a passion ever since, London Book Of The Dead, I, Lucifer and The End Of The World all have repeatedly and frequent spins on my Ipod, and I have been lucky enough to interview main-man Stephen Coates – and see work from a friend who made a film with him.
Seriously – I love this band.

So, when SONGS FOR THE LAST WEREWOLF landed on my doormat I not only did a dance, screamed YIPPEE! Like a giddy schoolboy, but also almost broke my leg trying to get the thing into my CD player.
And by God.
What a sonically wondrous result met me!

Crafted as a narrative take on Musically translating the Glen Duncan book – The Last Werewolf – and presented as a series of short story vignettes that cover the narrative of the original book and tiptoes and waltzes within so many genres of music that it must surely hold records – this is an album that has you gripped and grinning from second one right through to its fading outro – a masterpiece of musicianship and concept married into one genuinely thrilling whole…

Stephen Coates parades throughout like a reserved ringleader, red coat flowing, doffing his top-hat to passing wives and widows – Licking his lips in lascivious ways and baring a Toothy, wicked and hungry grin as they saunter past – The wolf at the heart of the story.
He drafts in frequent collaborators The Puppini Sisters, Joe Guillotine and – most brilliantly, like he did on I, LUCIFER, Glen Duncan – the author and crafter of the world Coates orchestrates with pulsing, ebbing and flowing musical games – to provide an album part theatre, part radio broadcast and all entertaining… Churning out moments of Single obscure beauty and epoch brilliance that you are dizzy by albums end trying to keep up.

Songs like the Tom Waits alike opener WOLFMAN are bursts of ecstatic energy, gruff voiced and ragtime band, full of decayed, resonant and refreshingly old school, lo-fi charm – it pops the top of the can and sprays you with the intent of the record inside – MR AND MR WOLF is a lipstick red ballad of love and obsession and murderous intent, split vocally between the sweet and tender woman and the gruff and hairy palmed and voiced Male – a flirtatious and deadly mix of hedonistic seduction and devilry – which will either end up with the bed or the bodybag.
I could go on… But.

Let me put it this way.
Spouting polemically and hyperbolic at the album does not justice make.
This is an album you need to experience and fall in love with.
A decadent, old fashioned romance of a record – full of highs and lows of mood, visionary throughout and once again completely perfect from first to last.
I will be listening to it for months without getting bored.
You will do the same.

The Real Tuesday Weld have never let me down.
Like Tom Waits, Nick cave and Jeff Buckley – it is a genuine one of a kind, tripping the light fandango on a dance-floor of his own creation, and laughing at the absurdities of being like everyone else, Stephen Coates and his musical band of misfits are genuine heroes of music, and I will salute and shout about them from rooftops until I have no voice and blood drips from my throat.

Like as though the werewolf consumed me…
Which, let me tell you…
It did.

And I loved every single little second.

Andi James Chamberlain