Like mushrooms, in particularly LSD mushrooms, some bands grow best in the dark. They remain underground, uber-cool and completely true to themselves. Take Magic Alex for instance. They may have a cult following, but they are a band who are criminally underrated. They may not be an active band anymore, but their music soundtracks the C86 generation, the 24 Hour Party people, raving and space-hopping in the cosmos of alternative rock.

Formed in 1995, Magic Alex were comprised of Dean Taylor on vocals, John Simm on guitar, Greg Saunders on keyboards, Simon Borkin on bass, and John Mac on drums. They were the real deal, who went beyond the cultural associations of The Beatles, co-existing within the Second wave of the Brit Invasion, the Second Coming of retro psychedelic blues, and the rebirth of post-punk revival of the early 00s. They released their debut album “Dated and Sexist”, in 2006, which ironically remains a timeless, contemporary, explorative, and visceral masterpiece. 

Listening to “Dated and Sexist”, 20 years later, feels like Indie-rock’s best kept secret, hidden amongst the dark matter of time and space, whilst shrouded in mystery and suspense. It’s an album that soaks up the sonics of the shapeshifters, innovators, powerhouses of alternative rock, and injects a heavy dose of free-wheeling showmanship. This album is more than an album. It’s a journey across the many metamorphosis of alternative rock, that crystallises the magic and evolution of guitar- laden music, whilst elevating the manifestation of its cultural impact.

Here is an album that cuts through the many genres and sub-genres of alternative rock and blends them into a majestic, hallucinogenic, trippy and mood-alternating soundscape. It’s an album hungover from the baggy, brit-pop days of the 90s, whilst rehydrating with a cocktail of 60s and 70s gregarious groove and glory.

A mesmerising album, “Dated and Sexist” transcends the timelines of Art-Rock, New Wave,  Pro-punk,  Neo-psychedelia, Acid-rock, Power-pop, Neo-blues, whilst sidewalking down the transatlantic and industrial subways of Post-punk. Think The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Velvet Underground, The Beach Boys, Television, Magazine and Joy Division, joining forces with Siouxsie and the Banshees, Echo & The Bunnymen, The Jesus and Mary Chain, The Stone Roses, The Verve, Spiritualized and Primal Scream, mixing those shots with Andrew Weatherall in an all night bender, then you might catch a glimpse. Then if you look closer, you will find that there is more to “Dated and Sexist” than meets the naked eye. So again, it’s probably best to get that telescope out and witness all its celestial activity and listen out for all those nuances, subtle shifts and crossovers into other parallel universes, with more spiritual reincarnations than George Harrison.

When you listen to “Dated and Sexist”, you can’t help being blown away by the sheer talent of the band. It’s an album which evokes a real sense of kinship and collective commentary. The chemistry, camaraderie and empirical vision within the band reminds me of when The Beatles used to rehearse and somehow always come out with some form of spontaneous, witty, improvised and experimental creativity.

Likewise, Magic Alex were an alchemical line-up, a masterclass of exemplary musicians, with an intuitive brand of brotherhood, that came together like a flash of celestial chaos, gleaming and beaming, zooming and booming like a fecking rare comet.

As a frontman, Taylor oozes charisma, versatility, and star quality. He’s the bona-fide showman, who preens the limelight with Jagger, Gillespie and Ashcroft, whilst feeling the cool breeze nonchalance of Verlaine and Devoto. Quietly theatrical, Taylor is a class act, whose vocals stream every iota of emotion, mood and altered state like a true pro.

As for Simm, he’s a master of his craft, a virtuoso guitar god, who is up there with the likes of Squire, McGeoch and McCabe. Accomplished and visionary, Simm travels at high velocity. He is a progressive and expansive guitar player, whose fluidity of abstract and razor riffs, produce a spectacle of show-stopping sonics.

As for Saunders, well he’s a wizard of the keys. He’s a Merlin of merging soundscapes, shaping the mood with his well-timed, mutating ambience. Whether it’s submerged in the farfisa foam of psychedelia or lost in a haze of new wave dry-ice, Saunders has a knack of flicking the sonic switch and creating a soundscape that rotates between the contemporary and the classic. 

Again with Borkin, his bass playing broods, prowls and descends deep within the oracles of post-punk. Diverse and smooth, Borkin stays true to his Art-rock roots, whilst day tripping towards a funkadelic and Industrial horizon. 

When it comes to Mac on drums, he really does embrace the tribal and primal instincts of the band. With close comparisons with Morris (Joy Division/ New Order) and Reni (The Stone Roses), Mac is the heartbeat of the band, whose primal prowess and free-spirited range, expands beyond the realms of post-punk and catapults the band deep within the roots of neo–jazz.

To really understand and comprehend just how great “Dated and Sexist” is, you really need to go out and listen to it. My words alone don’t give it justice. My words may not mean anything until you listen first hand, up close and connect with its musical psyche.

It’s an album whose opening track, Soft Bomb, launches from the fuzzy space-stations of neo-psychedelia, navigating through the farfisa fog, whilst transmitting the jangly radio waves of neo-folk-rock. A nuclear fusion of crestfallen commentary and upbeat blues, Soft Bomb, re-channels the frequencies of 70s post-punk, whilst rewiring the barbed edges of 60s Art-rock.

Breathe In ebbs and flows through the chemical currents of neo-psychedelia, whilst catching its breath beneath a vortex of paisley power-pop. It’s a breezy track, that sings from the tripped-out blues of neo-folk, whilst surfing the waves of jangly-rock.

Super KK pulsates from the heart of industrial post-punk, whilst taking speed across the hedonistic highways of garage rock. It’s an outstanding track, whose spiked sonics accelerate between the crossroads of breezy Brit-pop, delirious dream pop and pioneering noise-rock. Through the Hooky-esque reverberating riffs, razor bass, robust beats and uber-cool vocals, Super KK is the ultimate bona-fide rock track. Along with honky-tonk stomps, and plectrum preening, Super KK revives the grassroots of rock n roll, and spins it in a boundless wave of musical mayhem. It’s the track that blends the blueprints of every influential genre, every vocal delivery that defines charisma and paints it black with an ancestral coat of Jagger-swagger, Bolan, Verlaine, Gillisepe and Reid, brilliance.

Motorway wallows in the Wah layby of art-rock and bongo beats in the shadows of post-punk. It’s a sunrise of hedonism, rising with the reverie rays of neo-psychedelia and shading from the farfisa flares. Through the stellar synths and hazy hues, Motorways levitates between the ethereal realms of dance-rock and dissipates between the dry-iced clouds of sunshine synth-pop. It’s a baggy-trip down memory lane, dancing with Weatherall, whilst elevating to the euphoric heights of acid–rock. What could be a missing track from Screamadelica, is testament to the band’s versatility, eclectic exploration and vocal skill of evoking a spectrum of emotions.

Feel This is a sublime track, whose extended intervals of jangly riffs and nomadic basslines, takes a funked up excursion down the pathways of baggy, dub-rock. It’s sunshine melancholy, that soaks up the farfisa beams of neo-psychedelia, whilst blinded by its luminous light. Through the epic stream of jangly riffs, Feel it shimmers from the wonky skylines of shoegaze, and is awakened by the lucid looms of dream pop. Along with xylophonic synths, and power pop harmonies, Feel This, lounges in the chambers of Baroque pop, proving yet again the sheer diversity of the band. 

Melody’s Gone is an adrenaline rush of racing riffs, that jangles down the hazy highways of neo-psychedelia and is driven by the brooding basslines of post-punk. Along with the trippy interval of elongated harmonies, Melody’s Gone whirls and swirls in a concentric cloud of power-pop. A catchy head spinner, Melody’s Gone goes back to the basics of New Wave, remastering the ethos of Indie DIY. What could be the missing link between Postcard Records and Creation Records, bridges the gap between raw emotion and polished prowess.

Chica Chica is a supreme track, a spectacle of Squire-esque strums, that shimmer, speckle and soar across a neo-psychedelic sky. It’s a track that highlights the sheer musicianship and high calibre of the band. Through the brotherhood of bongo beats, Chica Chica throbs from the heart of classic post-punk, whilst preserving a cosmic connection with garage-rock. Along with the brooding vocals, Chica Chica, prowls and chatters between the nocturnal nuances and storm-brewing suspense.

Through the striking strums, Chica Chica, extends the bands repertoire of riffs, to the level of no return. When I say no return, I mean it transfixes, captivates and gets you completely hooked. It’s a multi-faceted affair, that slams, slithers and zig-zags like lightning, sacrificing to the music gods, and renewing its soul.

Just when you think you have heard it all, you get hit by an explosive interval of guitar magnificence by Simm. With obvious comparisons to The Stone Roses, Chica Chica turns it up a notch, and catapults its spirit into a psilocybin portal of excessive psychedelica and acid-rock. It’s a euphoric trip that Jim Morrison would be proud off, and somehow imagine doing his shamanic dance around the relaying vocals of Taylor. A cacophony of kaleidoscopic curves, spiral strums and pitter-patter beats, Chica Chica is an abstract reminder of what happens when fireworks get hit by lightning.

Through the glistening guitars and bioluminescence basslines, Finest Hour strums from the doldrums of neo-blues, whilst sinking into an abyss of surf-rock. What could be the love child of The Shadows, Pixies, Brian Eno and The Stone Roses, wouldn’t sound out of place on the original Trainspotting soundtrack. It’s a virtuoso voyage of extensive crescendos, diving deep within the pools of post-punk, spinning into a vortex of neo-psychedelia, whilst soaking up the farfisa foam and abrasive ambience. Along with the razor riffs, and grinding guitars, Finest Hour sparks and shudders from the sidelines of post-punk,  whilst colliding with the metallic clatter of Industrial–rock.

Jesus Freaks is a sprightly, neo blues wonder, that picks up the plectrum of post-punk and side-saddles down the staggered paths of alt-country. Through the chirpy harmonies and bouncy basslines, Jesus Freaks surfs the shores of power pop, getting around with The Beach Boys and enjoying a few beers. It’s an infectious track, that bathes between the hazy days of psychedelic-rock, whilst dipping its toes in the paisley paradise of psychedelic pop.

Foggy Nation, rattles from the industrial landscape of post-punk, preens from a sideshow of glam-blues and stage-dives into the trip-pit of neo-psychedelia. A cosmic cousin of Joy Division and Primal Scream, Foggy Nation marches with the Leaders of Men into an arena of sonic solidarity, whilst beating its own individual drum.

Animal Magic exudes a rock n roll magnetism and charismatic stage presence that Mick Jagger would be proud of. A brooding voltage of burning riffs, Animal Magic zooms and strikes from the electric skylines of 70s rock and storms the sun-cracked patina of garage-rock. It’s an alt-rock hybrid of jangly-rock, blissed out blues, and psychedelic-rock, that quivers and chills in a haze of the harmonic hues.

Outside jangles in the shadows of neo-folk, nestles in the nebulous corners of dream pop and beats in the lonely paths of post-punk. It’s a wistful track, whose aloof vocals, wallow in sanctuary of lo-fi, while harmonising in a haven of neo-psychedelia. Understated and melancholic, Outside is an extended interval of space-out strums, that are air-lifted by the space-cadet synths of new wave.

Out of my Mind (Noah Remix) backtracks and back chats, in a vortex of trippy psychedelia. It’s an eerie out of body experience, looming in a loop of lucid levitation, whilst drifting with the debris of space-rock. A sublime track, Out of My Mind is an altered state of stellar synths, galactic guitars and shooting stars, rocketing and orbiting the hedonistic heights of acid-rock.

An album that has stood the test of time, “Dated and Sexist” is definitely in my top 20 albums of all time! It’s an album that deserves so much more credit, recognition and exposure. I am sure if it wasn’t due to the band’s other commitments, this album would have gone platinum, but like comets, their visibility, luminance and brilliance isn’t always apparent. Sometimes the most powerful magic occurs in the universe when people are asleep, unaware of the cosmic interactions, and the formation of new stars being born.