It's 3 O'clock in the morning. You're a little wired. Somebody called Anoushka has just taken your Polaroid, for no reason, A glitter ball twinkles overhead. The music is quietly bangin'. To paraphrase an old Mancunian adage, Fuck me, Its Pet Shop Boys Being good at being pet shop boys again, It had to happen, After the mournful, under-performing Adroit step of their last couple of albums, the boys have gladly stopped growing old gracefully.

Blame in on the boggie, the currant fissionability of the very gay disco music that was their music in the first instance has allowed then to turner out their most relevant record in well over a decade. Part of their looser triumvirate of waspish offshoot remixes projects, Disco 3 is an album for those who secretly know that all albums are a bit rubbish, apart form one that Joyce Simms made back in the 1987.

So rather than an album as such, you get 9 five-minutes rods of properly realised dance floor lighting, the echoes of Ladytron (If looks could Kill), Fischerspooners (Time on my hands) and Felix Da housecat (his own ramping mix of last album's London) are just the sound of two grown boys throwing a curveball back at some of the more astute musical patricians of today's that's would cite 80s PSBs as amongst their most pivotal influences anyhow,

It's a cute touch, What most surprising - from the witty Barry Whites sample ( Positive Role Model? Thought a slice of Merciless, Techy tribalism (Sexy Northerner) right up to some brilliantly paired down hi-nrg (Try it) - is that Pet shop boys are any cop at elating a discotheque anymore.

You could throw any one of these roughly formed diamonds onto the deck at Cynthia's Bar or some such delightfully seedy night Erie and watch the fashion massive go mental, Results
Paul Flynn

Big hug to Northern_Lady for sending me this X-X