This is the album that those ska kids Madness who sang ìOur House‘ coulda shoulda made: playful and sultry and lustily morbid. Dramatic and spitting, lead singer Nat Halpernís vocals leap all over the octaves, moving nimbly from shout to sly lick and back again. The Flesh has an archness in them, a knowing in-on-the-joke wink even as they get all anthemic on your ass, part karaoke-ready, part darkwave rock operatic. A cool as shit cannonball of an album, big and bold and splashy.