I was dropped on my head on a fairly regular basis as a child, both accidently and by design, so I'm to be forgiven when I state that upon listening to Tim Ayre's single "Modern Life" I became, with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut, at least partially unstuck in time.
I mean, it's a great little number, with its wouldn't-bruise-a-grape arrangement and Ayre's mañana-esque delivery, which is to say nothing of the embarrassment of esoteric influences one might be tempted to point out, but that still doesn't explain why I suddenly found myself in mid-1960s Deauville, France, chatting up a comely, albeit lonely, widow at my son's boarding school.
Or why, when I turned to the garçon to order us one more bottle of Chateau Mouton Rothschild, 1960, I turned back to find myself at Minneapolis's Uptown bar in the late 90s, with the mother of the Tommy and Bob Stinson sliding one of her famous Bloody Marys in front of me, the whole time confiding that she was going to "go postal" if anyone played Semisonic's "Closing Time" on the jukebox again. Through her onslaught of sailor-grade profanity, I could've sworn I heard snippets of this long-forgotten number by The Legendary Jim Ruiz Group.
And then, before I could drop a buck and punch up A-33, "Something I Learned Today" by Hüsker Dü, I was back in modern day Pittsburgh, feeling for Billy Pilgrim and his plight, to say nothing of my headache.
Mrs. Stinson always did have a heavy hand when it came to the vodka.
But you were asking about Tim Ayre, so allow me to reel it in. The gent behind "Modern Life" is a composer, singer and songwriter based in Sydney, Australia, and the song is lifted from his EP of the same name, which came out yesterday on Kitsuné Musique. And if his press release is to be believed, this young man is shaping up for a big year ahead, which suggests that perhaps he and that wonderous smoking jacket might be landing on these shores before too long.