Peter Gutteridge - Pure

Wake up and fucking activate, zombies! Peter Gutteridge’s one-and-only solo record is back in print (having rarely ever been in it, as it goes). The best record of the Flying Nun/Xpressway imperial era? That would be quite the claim. But it’s certainly very close to being my favourite. A perfectly imperfect document of lo-fi DIY creativity, on a wing and on a prayer and continually inspired, sidewinding through the art damaged triumvirate of the Velvets-Suicide-The Fall with an accentuated sense of lop-sided melody. Home recorded to 4-track - in case that much wasn't obvious - there's an off-hand sense of shadowy genius to these 21 recordings that's equal parts charm and mystery, something which that striking front cover and the tell-tale title only add to (straight from the hip, this stuff). Gutteridge's CV is an enviable one, overflowing with widely celebrated contributions to The Clean, The Chills, Snapper, The Great Unwashed++. By virtue of those associations alone, there's a page guaranteed in The Great Book. And yet, in Pure there seems to be a true capturing of the artist as intended, on-a-whim songwriting and recording that asks as many questions as it answers. Peter Gutteridge is a tricksy little riddle and he knows just how to spin it. I'd say that the influence of this kind of thing can't be overstated, only i really have no conception of how many people will have actually heard these songs. Some? A few? Certainly not enough. If Pure isn't foundational just yet, it's undoubtedly a fundamental expression of Gutteridge's unique voice and the upside down universe which he cohabited.