If I were blessed with the name Zube Sultana, I would make bloody well sure that I was a member of one of Miles’ more way-out lineups back in the late sixties. Maybe playing on ‘Bitches’ Brew’. If that weren’t possible, then I suppose I would spend my time composing shambolic suburban psychedelia to keep the tedium of twenty-first century Banbury at bay.
The EP consists of three ‘proper’ songs and two copyright-infringing Intermissions. You might ask why we need two breaks in a set of three not-overly-long songs, even in this era of gnat-like attention spans, but this hasn’t occurred to our Zube. So in the name of R and R, he has murdered a blameless Cat Stevens song and some bubblegum pop thing that sounds horribly familiar. Fortunately, the ambulance-chasers won’t get much out of him- the commercial proceeds of this record will probably stretch to a packet of Out-Of-Code Ryvitas or a couple of Woolworth’s stores. This is not necessarily a bad thing.
Opener ‘Fall Dew’ sets the tone: plinky pianos and fractionally-out-of-tune guitars combine with solid if stolid drumming to produce something rather friendly and summery. Zube’s singing is a range of two halves: his falsetto is really rather pleasant, but his chest-voice suggests a much more uncertain vocalist. This impression is literally doubled by the verses having two different vocal lines going on independently- both of them terrible. The chorus, by contrast, is laid back and confident. It brings to mind another local muso, Joff Winks, who has a similar voice and a similar capacity to create guilty pleasures. The song ambles druggily on for several minutes before reprising the verse and chorus instrumentally. The whole thing is over-long and over-involved, but there is undoubted musical talent in there. My guess is that Zube could write mainstream material if he wants to, but at this stage in his life he can’t be bothered.
This impression is firmed up by the excellent refrain on ‘How the Silent Bloom’. The song has that lysergic, Pink Floyd plod, with the simple but rather cool bass line taking the plaudits, but unlike ‘Fall Dew’ you can enjoy it without being drunk or stoned. The closing track ‘The Test’ has a sweet, sophisticated instrumental texture based around harpsichord and accordion, although the multilayered vocals are still a bit cringeworthy at times.
So, we meet yet another barmy, unclassifiable, Oxfordshire talent. File alongside Joff, Anton, Desmond Chancer and the rest. Whether Zube remains content to potter away in his garden shed, producing daft little doodles like these, or whether he decides the rent has been unpaid long enough and he should try and write a hit record , I’m keen to hear what he does next.