There are two reviews already here, each definitive in their own right. Beaten to the punch with little to argue about, all I can offer are some additional observations.

A quote in a pre-release interview has led many to believe that this is Iggy’s recording swansong. The neat closure of the record’s final song “Paraguay” supports the proposition…and don’t writers love that sort of shit. If “Post Pop Depression” is Iggy’s “LA Woman” - and a shambolic Jim Morrison performance with the Doors in Detroit had a big impact on Teenage Jim – then it’s a shutting of the creative loop.

This is surely the disc which will finally break Heath Cullen in Australia, and the hearts of women everywhere. Hugely talented (Cullen produced the disc, and it sounds just lush and fine and crisp), the man has a knack of gathering like-minded musicians who just happen to share his dark and mystical streak.

Comparisons abound; a friend who is a big Cullen fan spots a Hugo Race-like similarity. I doubt that’s intended; more like Cullen and Race have visited the same horse races…

It never ceases to surprise me, the myriad ways in which a classic rock outfit can develop a style and method of expression which reaches out effortlessly into our lives, to help and spark our moods.

Even so, on first listen, although I could hear great talent here, it wasn’t getting to me. Until I reached what I suppose is Side Two, where things take a sudden left turn and … when the first side rolled again to play, the entire band made far, far more sense. And it’s been on repeat in the car to my great joy and the bane of the local cats and one rather irritated daddy possum.

Confession time. I love Wendy James. But not in the way you're probably thinking. The five bottles you see at the end of this review are well earned but some will not share my enthusiasm. Wendy’s blistering hysterical British syllables may well strike terror in the sensitive ears of some. Fuck ‘em.

You'll immediately remember Wendy from '80s pop punk band Transvision Vamp. She'd tell that girl to shut up. She wanted your love. But baby she didn't care. A fierce blonde strumpet in a short black dress. The pin up girl who launched rather more than a thousand lustful teenage fancies for those too young to have noticed Debbie Harry.

These are dark times. It ain’t easy playing rock and roll in most countries and France is no exception. High culture looks down its nose at anything that’s not home-grown - just like a Paris waiter in an expensive restaurant sneers at linguistically-challenged tourists who can’t read the menu.

So give Chris Rolling and his band some credit for swimming against the tide. Chris who?

That this would be very good was a no-brainer. Van Campbell from Black Diamond Heavies and Freddy J IV from Radio Moscow in the same band? Yes, please.

This is raw blues with a dash of soul which is no surprise considering the principals’ main bands.. As you might expect, the band format (it’s not quite a duo - there is a bass player, probably added in post-production) strips it back to basics.