One doesn’t enjoy listening to The Associates the way one luxuriates in other groups with the tacky ‘New Romantic’ tagline, that is to say you're not snorting nose candy line dancing with that bird in neon stripes and spandex. This isn't bloody Adam Ant. No, with The Associates you're leaning over that chick in black you just spouted Nietzsche's Death of God parables to. Leaning over to make sure she isn't gone for good. Fucking Junkie. Never mind, actually, you don't listen to The Associates with gals. Not even the blond. That's a bad association. Wrong, you listen to The Associates in solace, in your loneliest lonely. A world apart, when Joy Division isn't cutting it but the cut is needed. The Associates drab and dreary tone forces open ears to closed minds. Sulk is the bleakest album to receive the fallible New Romantic/New Wave genre tags by jerky journo’s seaside. Be weary. Be mystified. Be nihilistic. Be nothing, now. Just blimin’ Sulk.
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