In May this year I wrote two posts about Montt Mardié’s Skaizerkite album. In the first I suggested that it was “‘Like A Virgin’ glimpsed through Stockholm’s secret sugared Pop kaleidoscope.” I said it was “Tough Alliance slipping a tongue to Friends Again in a frantic lost embrace. Haircut 100 sliding a hand into Britney’s jeans pocket.” In the second, a week later, I said that “my head and heart go turning crazy summersaults in tune with those choruses that explode like roman candles across the cornflower skies of my dreams.” And it was true. It is still true.
Listening to Skaizerkite again in the freeze of December feels like being wrapped in a glittery electric blanket. It warms my heart and toasts my toes. Even a song like ‘Dungeons and Dragons’, which is essentially a sorrowful tale of the fear of public perception versus personal reality and of love thrown away because of that fear. It is a song fired through with brittle paranoia and apprehension that retains a core of warmth despite the cruelty of the self-inflicted pain. Yes, you want to shake the character (I hesitate to suggest it is really Monty, for he does sing so well of different - and recurring - characters in his songs) by the lapels and tell him to get a grip, to grow up and to get over it (Star Wars, Dungeons and Dragons, the girl, whatever...). Yet at the same time you also want to throw an arm around his shoulder, take him down the pub and have a good long chat about the horrors of The Phantom Menace.
May the Force be with you, indeed.Montt Mardié - 'Dungeons And Dragons'