What happens happens and what doesn’t doesn’t and you probably don’t even notice that it hasn’t happened. After all, why should you notice what you weren’t actually looking for. I may be talking enigmas here but that’s what crossed my mind as I listened to “Courgettes” by The Pure Conjecture.
First impressions were of more – for want of a better genre – loungecore with the laidback approach to both playing and singing suggesting a band too cool for school. Does the world really need another band like The Luxury Condo? Are The Pure Conjecture another joke you only get if you own a white jacket? The answer, my friend, is not blowing in the wind but in a vacuum sealed tin that has “born in the eighties” stamped upon it. Yes, there is more of The Big Dish, Deacon Blue and bloody Haircut 100 underpinning this band’s musical intentions than they would probably like to advertise. That said, white boy soft soul has managed to survive the passing of time so perhaps The Pure Conjecture should get some latitude.
Matt Eaton handles the vocals like a nightclub seasoned pro and the songs have more lyrical depth, and indeed a sparkle of quirkiness, than you would expect – thumbs up to really quite clever “All The Cherries Are Gone” - and the album sounds as smoky and downbeat as it should. You can easily imagine women in sparkly dresses grooving along to any of the songs presented here with the inspired conventionality of “Knock Three Times” especially likely to get those white stilettos in motion.
So, what I am saying is that “Courgettes” might well be more than it seems to be or maybe it is just what it seems to be. The Pure Conjecture might just have created an enigma in search of an white jacket.