Pitchfork

Barry Adamson doesn't shy away from melodrama on Stranger on the Sofa, his ninth solo album. "Here in the Hole" is the kind of spoken-word narrative you either embrace or laugh at-- there's no in-between. Over bursts of static and gyroscoping feedback that flits in and out of view like a searchlight pointed skyward, Anna Chancellor's brittle upper-crust English accent intones a weird sci-fi narrative stuffed with lines like "They believe I know everything because my master's memory serves me well/ In fact, I know nothing" and "I operate a program of self-denial, yet languish in polymorphous perversity as is my wont" and "I'm hunted for my flesh/ I'm hounded for my beauty."

"Here in the Hole" shares some sonic characteristics with Adamson's early soundtrack-influenced work, and its placement at the front of the album feels like a pullback from the odd funk of 2002's King of Nothing Hill, but it turns out the rest of the album is all over the place, swinging through dark pop, atmospheric instrumentals, and demented circus music. The next song, "The Long Way Back Again", is like Barry Adamson's Basement Tapes, catchy pop spilling over with Hammond organ and acoustic strumming, not to mention slide guitar and a big harmonica hook. It's not in Adamson's usual territory, but it's a killer song.

In addition to bass (which he played with Magazine and Nick Cave), Adamson plays most of the instruments here, including sax, drums, and vibes. Occasional organ and slide guitar-- from Nick Plytas and Adrian Owusu, respectively-- add a lot to the record, suggesting Adamson was wise to hand those bits off to specialists. Broken waltz "Inside of Your Head" would be a lesser song without its swirling Hammond part, for instance, while Owusu's guitar adds whole layers to "You Sold Your Dreams" and "Officer Bentley's Fairly Serious Dilemma", both memorable rock songs. "Officer Bentley" uses its beginnings as solid pop as a launch point for a wild Rollerskate Skinny-ish jam, cut with samples of EMS personnel describing patient symptoms.

The scattershot nature of the album works in its favor and tends to mirror the way Adamson's mind works; what to many would seem a strange juxtaposition just seems natural for him, as he freely mixes deadpan seriousness with bizarre humor. "My Friend the Fly" is the best example: Adamson's sinister monologue in the verses involves lyrics about injuring himself while trying to swat a fly and could just as easily have been sung by Homer & Jethro or a Marx brother. And then the charging instrumental passages the verses trade off with are Adamson's signature cinematic soul, as is the gorgeous instrumental "The Sorrow & the Pity", which goes from martial drums to beautiful string synths and piano.

The album ends with a couple of instrumentals that showcase Adamson's funk and dub leanings, both of which are good but not great. That the least interesting material falls to the back is unfortunate, because most of the album is engaging. Adamson is not a compromiser, and puts whatever he wants to into his songs; while this approach isn't always successful, it yields unique music with great personality, and Stranger on the Sofa has plenty of both.