Taken from his forthcoming debut album, The Saccharine Underground, Peter Cat’s ASMR is a ludicrous blast of glam pop that sounds like a six-way pile-up between Franz Ferdinand, Neil Hannon, Primal Scream, Sparks, Pulp, and Lodger-era Bowie. Bursting out of the starting blocks at full throttle, with pounding drums, bouncing bass, strings, and brass, it’s a track overflowing with ideas that’s unafraid to use all of them at once. And it’s brilliant for it.

Much like the rest of the LP, the lyrics are fantastic. Peter Cat has the ability as a writer (and performer) to make you literally laugh out loud, or bring tears to your eyes – and his monologue as the track inches towards its conclusion, with references to a checkout girl at Morrisons, among other things, is a real joy. Much like Jarvis Cocker, Cat’s observational, conversational style is used to great effect. Whilst the protagonist of ASMR describes himself as an outlier, it must be said that the track is anything but. The other nine songs on the LP are equally as strong – but I’ll save going on about those too much for now.

Whilst you could argue (if you were a pretentious bore, or on the payroll at Pitchfork) that there’s nothing truly original about ASMR, there can be no denying that it’s great fun. Obscenely so. Also, there’s nothing truly original about anything. It’s 2020, for fuck’s sake. Melodically, musically, and lyrically, it’s kind of unlike anything else out there at the moment. It’s also surely the only pop song to make a killer hook out of lines like “I don’t crave any physical touch / Truth be told I don’t like it that much / All I need is a strong signal / And my AKG K550s”.

All told, it’s a brilliant single and an excellent appetizer for the LP. I don’t eat meat anymore, but in many ways ASMR is like a hot wing. It’s great on its own, but wait until you get the rest of the bucket.

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