I didn't really expect another one to come along quite so soon after 2017's Dustbin of Sound, but it's massively exciting that it has and in doing so has proven that this version of the Cravats is neither a happy accident nor its own tribute band. As with Dustbin, there are a couple of numbers you may recall from Grimetime, but numbers which, let's face it, more than deserved a second crack at the walnut whip. Otherwise, Hoorahland segues effortlessly into the extended timeline of the jazz-punk colossals we all remember from the good old days, back when everything was better than it is now, excepting the Cravats who have somehow retained equivalent value, hinting at the possibility of a really shit band trapped in Oscar Wilde's attic, sort of like Racey covering Frank Zappa, or possibly the other way round.
Here we have something which manages to amount to more of the same whilst being something new, a slight shift of focus, and a further mapping of some fairly peculiar territory. Goody Goody Gum Drops firmly replants the Dadaist flag in 2020 in muscular fashion, like Vivian Stanshall as one of those telly wrestlers who growls at the camera while climbing into the ring dressed as a dinosaur; and Now the Magic Has Gone pairs the Shend with Jello Biafra to teach us what Disney looks like when it really goes wrong - talking medication and buckles here rather than Tim Burton pulling a spooky face and holding up a drawing of a spider.
Having now thought about it, I realise that both the Cravats and Very Things felt as though formed from the push and pull of the Shend's disarmingly well-mannered wrestling holds with Robin Dalloway's longing for Motown; but I realise the idea is bollocks, and Hoorahland - entirely post-Dalloway - is actually fully soulful, and at least as much so as Motortown and the rest - think early Clock DVA but with a lot more oomph, as music theoreticians call it: white souls, black suits - not sure about the hats, possibly chartreuse. I'd say it's Svor Naan's sax which makes the difference given that it may actually be unique within general rock history, but I don't think it's any one element so much as how all of these absurdly disparate parts blend into such a perfectly formed whole. If I were to call it a comeback, which I'd rather not, I don't think any other band has ever come back in such convincing fashion as this, and I literally can't wait to see where they go next.
Also, if you look closely at the cover you will notice that someone has, at some point, caught our man right in the face with a chocolate milkshake, which could be taken as a metaphor for pretty much everything at the moment.