The Fat Angel Sings

A veritable Skittle-nado of hooks, sound-shards and sugar-snarl pipes. Like a day-glo, junk shop glam revamp amped on energy drinks, Daniel Pujol’s third proper LP is a culmination of a few years of home recording, performing in basements and playful songwriting inspiration currently shooting through the roof. The fact a major label hasn’t swept up Pujol and dumped some bigtime producer on him yet is probably a good thing, as the remaining twinges of lo-fi sizzle and sampling-inspired mixing keep everything frazzled in all the right places. –

A veritable Skittle-nado of hooks, sound-shards and sugar-snarl pipes. Like a day-glo, junk shop glam revamp amped on energy drinks, Daniel Pujol’s third proper LP is a culmination of a few years of home recording, performing in basements and playful songwriting inspiration currently shooting through the roof. The fact a major label hasn’t swept up Pujol and dumped some bigtime producer on him yet is probably a good thing, as the remaining twinges of lo-fi sizzle and sampling-inspired mixing keep everything frazzled in all the right places.