Lone Taxidermist

Fresh from the twisted machinations and fertile imagination of Cumbrian-born, London-dwelling artist and seer Natalie Sharp, Lone Taxidermist's debut album 'Trifle' is a gallery of grotesquery not recommended for either the nervous of disposition or lactose intolerant. Arriving from a nocturnal world of sex and skullduggery, these irreverent and outlandish ditties exist on a unique psychic realm in which profane and profound happily step out together on the lash - a collision between the high-maintenance and the kitchen sink that's a feverish spectacle to behold.

Along with her co-conspirators Philip Winter (Wrangler/Tuung) and Will Kwerk, Sharp decamped to the splendid isolation of the otherworldly Bodmin Moor studio of Benge (John Foxx & The Maths/Wrangler) to sculp this unique and deliriously disconcerting confection, equally informed by post-punk angularities and electronic experimentation.

Invariably on the lookout for new and surreal dimensions of expression, Sharp's malicious metier lurks somewhere between the eldritch diva manifestations of Diamanda Galas and the wry reflections of Victoria Wood, yet equally driven by a magpie spirit and conceptual chutzpah redolent of Leigh Bowery and an acidic wit damaged by John Cooper Clarke. It's a stylistic path that has led to her being increasingly over-subscribed as collaborative maverick of choice for a dizzying array of artists, including recent work with Jenny Hval and Gazelle Twin.

Yet for now, our just desserts can be found within 'Trifle', an unflinching glimpse into a world created and (for her sins) lived in by Sharp, where glamour and gluttony marry as harmoniously as frozen summer fruits, gelatine, custard and cream. The proof, in this case, is very much in the pudding.