Nick Currie looks like a B-movie villain with his wicked black eye patch and ever-so-slightly menacing gaze. For a certain segment of Japan's music-buying public, however, he is a hero.
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Under the moniker Momus, Currie has become a darling of the arty set, a cult figure who makes witty, adventurous pop with more than a touch of British eccentricity. At some points like Beck, at others like the Beach Boys sieved through a Moog, his sound is rather like "2001: A Space Odyssey" when viewed today: utterly retro and utterly modern at the same time.
Beneath the sculptured hooks and the catchy turns of phrase is a devastatingly, even disturbingly twisted intelligence. This is the man who courted scandal by recording an album about, yes, sex with animals and another on which fans could have songs composed about themselves for $1,000 to pay off Currie's legal bills from a copyright-infringement suit. Let's just say they were not exactly the sympathetic homages patrons expected.
Currie is most famous here, perhaps, for producing the breathy, siren sounds of mod chanteuse Kahimi Karie, a collaboration that has resulted in some verifiably classic pop tracks. He has spent the last few months in Tokyo working with other assorted pop vixens but has kept a low profile. The few shows he will play have been billed as acoustic sets. Given Momus' penchant for surprise (and here's keeping fingers crossed for a special appearance by Karie), anything could occur.
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