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With the spectre of the European Referendum ever present, the growing sense of detachment and reclusion on both sides of the political landscape seems immutable. Perhaps the first artist to successfully translate the zeitgeist into pop music is Scottish writer and musician Nick Currie, otherwise known as Momus.

Named after the Greek god of satire and mockery, Momus returns with his 31st record, the self-described Post-Brexit LP, Scobberlotchers. Recorded during the rainy season in Osaka, Japan, where Currie currently resides, a number of tracks, including the album’s opener, ‘Heian’, continue in the same vein as his previous record, Glyptothek, which combined samples of Japanese shamisen 45 records with disparate synthesisers and abrasive guitars.

‘Tick of the Clock’ is undoubtably the record’s strongpoint, in which Currie laments the death of not only his father, but of his artistic muse, David Bowie. The accompanying piano results in melancholia reminiscent of Magazine’s ‘Parade’. Other noteworthy songs include ‘The Death of Empedokles’, which tells the tale of the ill-fated Greek philosopher, and the unrequited longing of ‘Hatecrush’. All feature Momus’s trademark amalgam of lo-fi electronic post-pop. Another highlight, ‘Cabin Porn’, combines a catchy vocal cadence with a scathing critique of the isolationist rhetoric that has come to dominate contemporary political discourse.

References to figures as diverse as Ezra Pound, Henry Darger, Theresa May and Fernando Pessoa demonstrate Momus’s propensity to tackle more subject matter in an individual album than most groups achieve in their entire discography. With Scobberlotchers, Currie perfectly captures the growing societal chasm and secures his position as one of the last true intellectuals in pop music.