More of that dirty scuzzy electro groove that we so adore here sadly though the information is a little scant though we are reliably informed that she / they are from France. Self described as garage / electronica, Lily Rose blend elements of industrial, goth and electronics and whip up the resulting ingredients into a heady club floor trashing goo. Obviously wearing their Leigh Bowery affections clearly on their sleeves and Cobra Killer badges on their lapels and with that their feet clearly located in the Noblesse Oblige camp they showcase here a seedy and sensual six track set that includes their newest cut to date ’Billy’ - this beauty is a frenetic and saucy bugger of a track replete with head warping seismic synth threads, austerely transposed vogue-ing grooves and a seriously tasty retro persona that if we didn’t know better we’d have sworn it had resulted from a mind mashed head on collision between Hazel O’Connor and the Eskimos in Egypt, mind you just love the cheeky ’ah ah ah’s’ nicked from Blur’s ’girls and boys’. ’lily rose’ ups the ante several notches to serve up a fuzzed and grizzled hip grinding frantic and sexually tense euro disko beast that unless our ears do deceive has all the hallmarks of an insurgent Xmal Deutschland being laid to waste by a formidable pairing of Front 242 and DAF with SPK milling about in the background supervising the aural orgy. Those of you who’ve ever laid awake at night wondering what a psychosis wracked Siouxsie might sound like shimmying up alongside a transitional post psych pre house ’jesus loves Amerika’ era Shamen may do well to hook up to the crippled strut funk of ‘Zimpoumplock’. The Siouxsie overtones are ever present though not as obvious on what is certainly the most sensual cut of the collection which comes by way of ’Obscene Celestine’ which at times had us strangely reaching for our early Sisters of Mercy records notably ’Alice’ though we must admit to being particularly smitten by the brief piano motif at the close. Driven us to distraction has ’mr key’ - there’s a looping underpin in the grooves that we can’t identify for certain that’s vexing us big time mind you we won’t deny there’s something distantly related to ’MacArthur Park’ here buried in the mix fending off the obvious advances of the strains of Bowie’s ’chant of the ever circling skeletal family’ all sumptuously housed in a waywardly loose limbed psyche tinged pop gem which frankly needs to heard though that said best of the set comes courtesy of ‘the crooner‘. Turning down the temperature to near chilling point, this barbed cutie is both edgy and eerie and braided by a dislocated dream like apparition that recoils amid a maddening claustrophobically sinister musical hall accent brought to bear by the doom laden descending snare like frosting chord chimes, this brutal dark hearted black rose fleetingly flat-lines into moments of dissipating mirages of macabre beauty - consuming stuff - Nina Hagen / Diamanda Glass anyone? We need to hear more.THE SUNDAY EXPERIENCE*********