FLOODLIT WORLD
Melody Maker single of the week
March 27th

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He sighs, he swoons, he sings the blues for wounded swans and dying planets. He is
elegance personified, an impossibly suave poet penning lines for the tortured souls
who still believe in everlasting love and the power of a beautiful moment. He's asleep,
dreaming of a better place, wishing himself into a winter wonderland where small
creatures and gorgeous devotees gather around to hear his wisdom. Oh Tiny, so
sweet, so naive.
Meanwhile a nation sniggers at the fat man. Look, Mum, he's eaten all the pies. And
crisps. And peanuts. Cor, ain't we clever? Thing is, were Tiny under 10 stone, with
cheekbones you could chop out lines with and the looks of a dirty lowdown sex
symbol (paging Mr Anderson, come in, Mr Anderson) his face would be in a curzillion
trillion bedroom walls and his music would be appreciated for what it is- the idealist
nonsense of the first paragraph set to continent crashing tunes and choruses to live,
breath and die for.
Adjust your mindset and buy into Ultrasound, then, for "Floodlit World" is glacier-cool,
a romantic anthem that sounds like it was written to be beamed into the cosmos in
the hope of attracting intelligent life. It's been said that Tiny is a modern Pied Piper
and you can hear him wooing the innocent and delighting the debauched here, the
breathy phrase "sing for me" sounding like the most compelling chat up line ever. And
that's the crux of Ultrasound - they're infectious, hypnotic, inspiring, the band who can
make you trade the real world of fat blokes and prejudice for the stars, the endless
stars. Give in. It's time for the dreamers to win for a change.

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