Look at the titles, this is romanticism stripped bare. Dogs, Cologne, Party, Happy Birthday, Towards You. It could be a haiku. Academic-in-exile Gerlov van Engelenhoven is back with a folio of witty Chattertonisms set to music. There is something of the campfire minstrel about van...

What be this morsel, kittens? Why it’s more howling at the void in an unseen back room, the protagonist doubtless bent double over a casio bemoaning Bon Jovi’s luxuriant mane-n-spandex years, replete with the smell of reheated andive mash circling unappetizingly in the background. Like...

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