Something about the Clientele's music has always felt a bit out of step with the rest of the world. It may be the way they mix the jangly pop of Love with the lethargic drone of Galaxie 500. It may also be the impressionistic imagery of Alasdair MacLean's lyrics and the exactness with which his words conjure lost village greens. Or it may just be that the band's too stubborn and idealistic to conform to... More >>>