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Album Details

• Artist: Superqueens
• Album: Royal Shit
• Label: Supermarket
• Year of Release: 2006
• ME Rating:
• Reviewed by: dadair on 2006-03-31

The respected poet Michael Conroy Harris and Bruce Magill, combine seedy, sordid word play that shoots off from a piercing pistol of beats and whizzing synths, to make up the mancunian word mauling outfit Superqueens. They are a dangerous pair, not just for their raving, earthy depiction of the British underclass that makes Eastenders appear like a Mormon village, but the nifty narrative provided by the well oiled and masterful voice of Harris, inspires dyed in the wool cynics such as myself to want to start penning verse and even performing it. I told you they are dangerous! The urbane brashness of 'per ardua ad strangeways', sees the slow down-tempo beats picking you up and putting you in the shoes of Joey, who has "just robbed two grand in cash" and his sweetheart Anne-Marie. You bob and weave with the beats around their murky underworld, until you reach the final destination of Strangeways. This is done via some religious rebellion, as the Lord has no place in their world.
The darkness of Bill Hicks mingles like smoke and fog with the sharp banality of poet Nick Hern to place a poignant vice on numbers like 'Rat Poison'. Whereby, the chilling comedown beats lower you to snake level to appreciate a different perspective on life. The brazen 'mister, you're A Lapdancer' has Harris' vocals taking on a sternly terse guise to lean on the slow steering, synth fuelled accompaniment, firing out some caustic chastising;

"You're a flight only travel agent, you can't even spell accommodation. So wipe your spit from off my back and cancel my reservation...... You're a lap dancer, you're a lap dancer. Mister, you're a lap dancer."

The slow and hitting 'Molecular' provides enough reason, in itself, to show why this duo impressed John Peel and were invited to do one of the much lauded Peel Sessions. This regal eight track swagger through life as you may know it if you are unlucky enough, culminates in the ironic love lash of 'not for all the e's in england'. This puts Superqueens on poetic pedestal to enhance their refreshing look down on urban life.

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