Apparently a lot of the songs were conjured up the New Synagogue in Gdansk and an abandoned marine machinery plant.
The feeling that Cummi Flu gives off is that of Doerell as a maniacal curator of a museum that's stuffed to the seams with strange and arcane objets trouvés.
The Membranes may flirt with a cartoony image of themselves but in the words of the Sage of Sheffield John Shuttleworth, don't be fooled.
Then MES and Elena shuffled on; buttoned up and carrying their stuff, looking like two daytrippers who were running for the Last of The Summer Wine coach trip to Holmfirth. You just felt this was going to be good.
But regardless of expectations or otherwise, it's a great, warm pop record, chock full of good licks and hooks and the funny squidgy little beats that keep you nodding along.
There are some BIG songs on here; right from the off, and by the midpoint you can feel pretty puffed and in need of a biscuit.
This is sassy German metropolitan pop; confident, fresh and cheeky. And it fits VERY well within this particular canon.
Do you need boneheaded stomps replete with deadpan vocals droning on about modern living, and overlaid by soft, pearly grey washes and grinding, grizzly slabs of synth?
It's almost the perfect alternative pop record; with enough to satisfy urban existentialists and garden centre visitors alike.
Now and again things do disappear down a wormhole, but overall this LP's a damned good, funny, and all-giving listen; and best is saved till last.
Will the lumbering, frayed Golem that is this take on alternative guitar rock stay upright longer than the odd month or two?
There WERE good things that happened away from all that Britpop balls. And Cornershop were one of them.
If you'd get one Godspunk comp to get out of your box to, I'd get this one, it's perfect trippe material, C17th stylee. The soundtrack to digging up Silbury hill.
This is why Fantastic Planet is so good. You can sense that it means something to Sarah Lipstate.
I'll guess wildly and think that they've gone into the studio and felt a bit of pressure, and not really gone further than presenting a cleaned up version of their live shows
A classic mix of droopy sixties bedroom folk pop offcuts, stitched into a new comfort blanket; a record for staring out of windows.