The first all-new
Splodgenessabounds album since 1991's valedictory
A Nightmare on Rude Street,
I Don't Know is gibbering proof that absence has not dented the dementia in the slightest. If anything, in fact, the chaos is even more far-reaching, as ten more years of cultural artifacts fall into range of
Splodgenessabounds' arsenal. Not that the potshots here are at all random.
Splodgenessabounds' greatest strength has always been his understanding of the offball humor of the street -- the advertising catch phrases and media headlines that become, however briefly, a part of the language ("I've fallen and I can't get up") and his ability to create new one-liners that prove just as catchy in their own right. "Two Pints of Lager" and "Malcolm Booth's Talking Bum" did the trick in the early '80s. This time around,
Splodgenessabounds' preoccupation is with Mongolia and, like
Attila the Stockbroker's classically all-pervading Russian cycle, what starts out as an odd observation for no apparent reason whatsoever (the semi-sweet "Lullaby of Mongolia") swiftly degenerates into contagious farce. "Mongols on the Streets of London," "Genghis Khan," and "The Things That Make Mongols So Great" are
Max Splodge in excelesis, and the fact that the remainder of
I Don't Know is concerned with more mundane aspects of everyday life ("My Socks Gone Down My Shoe") only heightens their impact. Built around sparkling
Dave Goodman production and bolstered by a clutch of guest musicians,
I Don't Know probably won't surprise anybody versed in the ways of old
Splodgenessabounds. But it won't disappoint them, either. Welcome back.