Fur coat and rakish white panama hat worn without irony? Lavish, Spector-ish production? Multi-tracked vocals? Could Mr Cleandenim be the saviour of jazz rock? Do not even think about listening to this swoonsome jazz-waltz – redolent of Scott Walker before he started incorporating sides of pork into the recording process – without a pack of Gitanes and half a bottle of ouzo to hand.
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