If you went ahead and read the lovely interview with Robert, published in this august journal, you will have already learnt a few intriguing things about this unique talent, one of which is that Sotelo is a pseudonym. A pseudonym under which it has been possible for the artist (I won’t name him as it doesn’t seem necessary, but you can find out if you buy the record) to produce this charming little slice of psychedelic whimsy that delights the senses and soothes the soul in equal measure.
Although the tracks on this album have been fleshed out recently by the touring four-piece that is the Robert Sotelo Band, this album was originally produced by Robert and Robert alone on the back of a series of acoustic sketches that came to him in a blur of activity back in 2016. Having the basics of the tracks in his head, what better way to do them justice but to go into the studio and lay them down on his own, thus guaranteeing that vision being fully realised. Interestingly, Robert recorded the album with the assistance of John Hannon from Liberez. Having seen Liberez support Heather Leigh and Peter Brotzmann (and man, they blew me away), I would have said that it was a strange pairing — but I guess the freedom and control that John has on stage allows for Robert to let the character of the songs take him away, but not to a point that they are lost in space.
Over twelve gentle, thoughtful and diverting tracks, Cusp finds Robert in a pastoral, slightly psychedelic, ’60s-tinged daydream. The opener “Tenancy Is Up” has a mournful air to it and the kind of vibe that used to make US pastoralists the Kingsbury Manx such a heartwarming proposition. It doesn’t sound like them and it is possible Robert hasn’t even heard them, but it is a little out of phase, the acoustic guitar and mellifluous keyboard tones are warming and gauzy; a slight counterpoint to the lyrical frustrations that are dealing with the gradual loss of his London flat.
“Marinade” perhaps goes a good way to explaining the appeal of this album. It concerns preparing a meal; “Cut the bread, prepare the jam, spread the table, make it grand”, all to a gentle Bontempi and flute backing. You could almost imagine Syd Barrett kicking himself for not coming up with it first. When it breaks into the final playground chant of “Cook it in a marinade, tell me when it’s hot”, you know that you are dealing with a songwriter with a lovely touch. He knows when to rein it in to prevent going too far. There are children’s television keyboard riffs and way out of phase cooing vocals on “Bronte Paths”, and even a nod to the motorik beat on “Dance” with its wild exhortation to “Dance with me in the middle of the day”. I like the idea of skiving off work, nipping home and having an illicit dance in front of the fireplace.
There is a sincerity and sense of belief in this gentle collection of wistful pop gems, which is ironic considering that they are released under a pseudonym — but perhaps that is what lends them the sense of freedom. Just allowing a set of songs to speak for themselves and touch the listener, if that listener is on the right wavelength. The lovely pressing on clear vinyl came with a handwritten note from Robert hoping that I would enjoy the record. I am happy to say that I did, and would like to suggest that you, dear reader, would likely do the same. I don’t know whether we will see anything like this again from Robert Sotelo, but if not, we have these twelve little gems to keep us warm on a cold winter’s evening.
-Mr Olivetti-
