If there's anyone more doomed than a hopeless romantic, it's a hopeful one, as Rialto's Louis Eliot could surely testify. With an eye for detail reminiscent of Jarvis Cocker and doleful vocals reminiscent of Terry Hall, Eliot sings like someone who derives enjoyment from having his hopes raised and dashed. After all, he needs his subject matter to match music as elegantly epic as this: 11 urban love stories, played out under a "sodium glow", in "twisted streets", with "neon in our veins". Whatever Louis put himself through to achieve this, it was worth it.
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