Gruff Rhys: Candylion

In an age where rogue Communist states are testing nuclear weapons and All Saints have reformed, we should all be given injections of Gruff’s cerebral fluid on the NHS as an hallucinogenic sedative. “A long time ago in the kingdom of candy/The lioness roamed the streets” he murmurs on his new solo outing over shuffling Becksian guitars and xylophones played by skunked-up wood nymphs, before going on about penguins with carnations and lemon-munching dalmations – all further evidence that Gruff probably thinks The Magic Roundabout is a gritty, hard-hitting documentary about inner-city deprivation. It’s fluffy as a candyfloss cloud full of Nouvelle Vague albums and whiffs a bit of ‘shroomy Jarvis’, but it’s delightful nonetheless and, trust us, when the dirty bomb goes off and mob rule erupts you’ll be there with us, bashing down Gruff’s door demanding whatever drugs he’s on.