There is something heroically uncompromising about Mik Pyro’s debut solo album; he tells it like it is and doesn’t care whether we like it or not.
Following the self-immolation of Republic of Loose – easily Ireland’s most authentically funk-soaked band – Pyro headed to the hills with a bag of bottles and a head that needed to be cleared out.
When he decided to come out of hiding, he spent many years fronting bands that engaged with the blues tunes they played as if they were equal measure divine and destructive. In other words, he was, shall we say, conflicted with life in general and, possibly, his own life specifically. Where he travelled to get the inspiration for this album’s dozen sinewy songs we can only guess, but one thing is certain: we don’t want to live there.
[ Pyro's technical hitch first time aroundOpens in new window ]
Like all sublime if hardy blues/roots, the music is fully and fiercely experienced, whether it’s Nothing More To Do With the Man (seven dynamic minutes of aural assault, featuring all-too corresponding co-vocals from MayKay), City of Ghouls (a high plains mix of The Band and Leon Russell), and My Mother & Father (Astral Weeks with a pure heart and a guitar solo to match).
From Baby Reindeer and The Traitors to Bodkin and The 2 Johnnies Late Night Lock In: The best and worst television of 2024
100 Years of Solitude review: A woozy, feverish watch to be savoured in bite-sized portions
How your mini travel shampoo is costing your pocket and the planet - here’s an alternative
My smear test dilemma: How do I confess that this is my first one, at the age of 41?
Throughout, the lyrics are superb, be they stream of consciousness rambles or quotable soundbites, and if the words seep regret, they are also as far away from self-pity as you can get. TONY CLAYTON-LEA
