WILL STONE is frustrated by a performance that chooses to garble the lyrics and drown the songs in reverb
Sour notes in this dystopian disco
Disco Sour
by Giuseppe Porcaro
(Unbound, £10)
WHEN reviewing a novel it helps to have something to work with — engaging characters, a discernible plot, a carefully penned exploration of human experience.
But when a book churns through the presses and not only fails to provide any of the above but seems to positively revel in its shameless lack of content, one inevitably smells a rat.
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