Remember King Midas, who whispered his dark secrets into the earth, only to have a plant spring up and hiss them back at every passing stranger? Former Arab Strap man Aidan Moffat is Glasgow’s equivalent and this album forms a series of spoken-word vignettes that accompany a short story in the CD sleeve. Moffat documents a more dissolute self, from intimate scenes of sordid adultery (‘Party At Your Boyfriend’s’) to memories of gatecrashing a strangers gathering (‘Hilary And Back’). Rather than Arab Strap’s bleak beats, it’s backed by lush, John Barry-esque string samples that contrast with Moffat’s gruff tones as deliciously as his brutal honesty jars with raw romanticism, such as "I’ve been planning all our future conversations and picturing your curls on my chest". A beautiful flower growing out of filth. [8/10]
EMILY MACKAY
Observer Music Monthly - January 2008
The Arab Strap man’s book and album is a reckless, lovely art package, says Garry Mulholland.
You have to admire a contrary bugger. As downloading creates a musical culture based entirely around the individual song, former Arab Strap singer/lyricist Aidan Moffat has made an album that only makes sense when played from beginning to end. If that weren’t enough, you have to read a short story from the accompanying booklet before listening to the 24 ‘songs’ and 36 minutes of I Can Hear Your Heart. There’s no verse-chorus. No hooks. Virtually no beats. And most of it is spoken...and no, not rapped...in an hypnotic Falkirk sigh.
I Can Hear Your Heart is a musical novel about the adventures, regrets, and dark comedy of being a pissed, chaotic and promiscuous man in your mid-twenties. The short story, ‘Poop’, is based around lost love and a filthy pub joke. The album, ‘Loop’, incorporates Springsteen’s ‘Hungry Heart’, a Dorothy Parker poem, orchestras, accordions and radio play sound effects. It’s a startling and beautiful art package that recalls a more reckless Ivor Cutler. Even if it will sound useless on your iPod shuffle. [4/5]
Sunday Times - CD Of The Week
This stupendous album, part spoken-word, part song cycle, ends with a 10-minute narrative in which Moffat, formerly of Arab Strap, describes a round of drunken partying, false pretences and looming remorse, as he lurches, in pyjama bottoms and a woman’s wig, towards the night bus. One of Britain’s greatest lyricists, Moffat revels here in his discomfort and inadequacy, recounting, with raw, rude candour, the drink he’s taken, the relationships he’s botched, the infidelities he’s engaged in. The album is divided in two: Poop is a short story in the booklet that listeners are asked to read first; Loop a 24-track sequence that looks back, with contempt, guilt, disgust and occasional relish, to what Moffat insists were the actions of "a different man, a younger and [more] idiotic me". His settings, scratchy samples and string-drenched pastiches, match his words for despair and bravado every step of the way. [5/5]
UNCUT
"Adults only" spoken- word from the Scots Bukowski.
Aidan Moffat, the half-cut Lothario at the helm of Arab Strap, has released solo records before under the nom de plume L. Pierre, so you’re right to presume I Can Hear Your Heart as a clean break. Although ‘clean’ clearly is the wrong word: this selection of poetry, spoken-word and sweary answerphone messages set to what sounds like the pop and crackle of old charity shop vinyl, is blue in the extreme - tales of infidelity and drunken couplings related in borderline pornographic detail. An enjoyable emission. [4/5]
MOJO
Dissolute, literary detour for erstwhile Arab Strap and L. Pierre mainstay.
Aidan Moffat’s hung-over perorations on misbegotten romance, loveless sex and Caledonian Weltschmerz were always Arab Strap’s USP and this idiosyncratic solo debut - described more as "audio novel" rather than musical album finds his grainy, confessional hallmark undiminished. Inspired by the pairing of Ivor Cutler and William Burroughs, it begins sans music with Part One:Poop, a candid short story about, well, misbegotten romance and loveless sex unfurling in the pages of an accompanying booklet. The musical element arrives with Part Two:Loop - 24 brief, potty-mouthed, coital diary entries backed by contrasting cheesy listening sound collages. The binary format may feel slightly contrived, but the fleshy, ash-flecked demimonde Moffat paints remains voyeuristically compelling on page or in either. [3/5]
DAVID SHEPPARD
Subba-Cultcha.com - Jan 08
The dirty half of Arab Strap speaks his mind.
Mr. Moffat is a dirty bugger, no questions asked. This we already knew from his time as one half of the never cheerful, ever miserable, often outstanding Scottish duo Arab Strap. If his time with Malcolm Middleton had condemned him to Hell, then this collection of poems, amounting to one story, set to sound bites and piano snippets will chain him deadweight to Lucifer’s throne.
Moffat’s poetry, much like his narratives for Arab Strap, consist almost exclusively of sordid and or naive sexual exploits told in deadpan and honest graphic detail. The delightfully titled 'Fuck It' opens to the tune of a couple climaxing, the pianos roll and Moffat speaks. ‘Sex always makes me hungry, and I could have a feast tonight.’ 'Good Morning' takes a more direct approach, starting off more like an extract from Big Jugs Monthly. ‘We slept in different beds because you felt guilty about your boyfriend, but in the morning we got under the covers and pretended that we hadn’t, and we started kissing again and I moved your top up but you wouldn’t let me take it off. When I tried to slide me fingers under your pants you pushed them away and put your own hand down there.’ However, what sets Moffat aside from any other dirty poet is his sense of tragedy. The poem ends, ’My girlfriend was still in bed when I got home / I did my best not to wake her up when I sneaked into bed / she didn’t wake up, she just turned round and gave me a cuddle and put her head on my chest and half asleep whispered, I can hear your heart.’
His words, no matter how filthy, are delivered in such a manner that can’t but touch the seedier parts of your heart, and often make you smile. Maybe that’s just my sense of humour, but tales of city life, honesty, misguided love, cheating and general ‘wrongness’ have never been so comforting. Not for the light hearted, but certainly for those cynical types, who, like myself, were disappointed when Arab Strap took their early retirement. Amusingly, I Can Hear Your Heart comes with instructions on how best to enjoy, ‘In bed, with headphones, preferably with a hangover.’ Follow this and you can’t go far wrong. [4/5]
David Samuel
Gigwise.com - 12.12.07
"a poetic twist upon a highly intimate story, set upon an eclectic mix of musical genres and quite frankly a joy to bare witness to..."
It was once thought by many that Aidan Moffat's former Arab Strap associate Malcolm Middleton was the loopiest, most eccentric indie rocker of all time. The release by Middleton of 'We're All Going To Die', a supposed punt as a contender for the Christmas number one spot, has gone a long way to affirming that but with Moffat's latest album release entitled 'I Can Hear Your Heart' it's a clear two fingers up to the PC brigade and all that is considered to be the norm in music for the twenty first century with what can only be described as an unadulterated shower of melancholic pornographic poetry.
There aren't many albums that posses an inlay that's worth reading, usually it's just a quick flash at the pictures but with Moffat's album it's insisted upon. If you can be bothered, and it's recommended, you'll find a rather fragrant short story which as a precursor to the album is appreciated as it ends up explaining quite a lot. Written in a Scotch accent Moffat rants on about how he wound up in bed with a so called friend and the turmoil that ensued. His inner most thoughts and feelings are released with little thought for the consequences.
The album begins with 'Atmos' which as it suggests is an atmospheric spell of ambient noise moving from the sublime to the ridiculous, giving way to the quirkily titled 'Cunts'. Perverse yes, but Moffat's combination of poetry and what can only be described as 70's flute based elevator music seems to fit. 'Super Sexy Real Live:' is a bout of classical mystery and suspense whilst 'Party At Your Boyfriends' sounds like Moffat talking into a Dictaphone from the confines of a toilet cubicle. '4Sex Message 1' is an absurd recorded message of relentless violent abuse, perhaps from the boyfriend of the girl Moffat has been screwing.
As you move from track to track you will of course notice that this album is quite different from any other you will have heard. It's essentially a poetic twist upon a highly intimate story, set upon an eclectic mix of musical genres and quite frankly a joy to bare witness to. Best listened to more than once to get the full picture, Moffat reveals to listeners another side to a man with a varied if slightly shady background. [4/5]
Matt Clutton