Paul Molloy – Madmen of The Apocalypso review

The Coral’s status as a national treasure was confirmed some time ago, but equally interesting has been the various paths trodden by band member’s solo projects. On guitarist Paul Molloy’s Madmen of The Apocalypso however, the shark may well have been jumped.

Whilst Armageddon is often written of allegorically, Molloy has chosen to face what he sees as either the planet or the species (Or both) imminent endings head on, using to soften the blow the twin devices of satire and fantasy. If only however that was the strangest thing about his second solo album.

The opener Doomsday Bottle of Wine was he says written after a chance request during the COVID lockdown from a neighbour to bring something back from the offy. In that sense, not so weird. Except this particular toasting of the mushroom cloud is set to as the singer describes a  ‘Charleston-esque Dixieland jazz tune’, as if Scott Joplin and some flappers were all parked outside your local Co-Op, a surrealist vision which if nothing else is one of the most original record (And conversation) starters of the year.

If you liked that, you’ll love Apocalypso – a jive which begs that you learn it as the price of entry to slip round St. Peter – and the Spaghetti western horns of Luxury Bunker, a tale which has the subject comfortably self-assembling furniture whilst the fallout rains down outside.

Long passed jazzmen notwithstanding, as with his alma mater Molloy references a clutch of mainly sixties touch points, from Lennon to Wings, The Kinks to the Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band. The former is most noticeable on Fat Man Sings as well as via the part oompah – yes indeed – of Absent Friends.

Underneath the burlesque very much lies the notion of an ordinary Joe trying to make sense of the new abnormal, if not literally, on tracks like Artificial Intelligence (that’s the name of the song), Little Green Men (Ditto) to cloning woolly backs (Dolly). The musical framing by contrast remains sincere, loving pastiches providing a sublime for the ridiculous.

“If the future’s not bright, it will at least be danceable” begins the press release which accompanies Madmen of The Apocalypso, a mission statement to unironically end them all. With it Paul Molloy has faced many people’s fears, said why so serious and revealed them for what they are. Asking after all the noise, some bloke’s outside now with a sharp looking instrument, and he’s humming away with a grin on his face, waiting for one of these tunes to start and count in everybody’s last midnight.