'Some people call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of love, some people call me Maurice, cause I speak with the pompetus of love'. The pompetus of love?! Really. I don't know what the heck Steve Miller was on the day he wrote that, but I could sure do with some now. Forget his string of catchy singles (and If Fly Like An Eagle isn't one of the better songs of that overwrought era, then I don't know what is). Forget his rather plain name (easily done). Steve Miller's greatest contribution to popular culture was to invent a word - pompetus - that no-one else has ever used since. It's never been adopted into colloquial lingo. It doesn't appear in the English Webster. It is, as far as invented words go, a failure. A blight on the sanctity of poetic licence. William Shakespeare would have been horrified. Afterall, the legendary bard invented more than 2,000 words and phrases that have since become a part of the common lexicon. Words with meaning and substance, words that kinda make sense such as 'addiction', 'swagger', 'undress', and 'obscene'. Now there's pure genius. Not the skewered ramblings of a 1970s hit maker.

Psychedelic pop from Apollo Sunshine which conjures up the spirit of The Beach Boys, Flaming Lips, Ween and Ben Folds Five in equal doses to create a scattered and suitably tortured album full of leftfield instrumental and melodic twists and lashings of quirkiness. If the cover art isn't confusing enough (it opens left to right. D'oh! Gets me every time), then the pot pouri of sounds, beats, and lyrical themes certainly is. It's not an easy album to get a grasp on, flitting dramatically as it does between straight jangly guitar pop and awkward instrumental breaks. It's either a work of complete genius or the fruits of a genuine madness. Either way, it's compelling, the epic 'I Was On The Moon' the standout track amongst a rippling sea of jagged classics. Heck ... that's almost poetic. Much like this album.