Monty

Monty embodies a peculiarly British strain of eccentricity, one that often earns admiration yet here yields lounge lizard pop tailored to the 1990s that may strike listeners as excessively arch and moneyed. His crisp, jacket-and-tie aesthetic draws on easy listening pop, 1960s spy themes, chic dance rock, knowingly refined strings and horns, plus silky female backing vocals, all fused without a surname ever attached. Observers struggle to separate deliberate tongue-in-cheek jest from sincere affection for upper-crust ideals, the sort of sound one pictures debutantes and young solicitors enjoying inside exclusive clubs. The recordings are polished, yet their self-satisfied comfort frequently irritates more than it amuses.