OK, OK, OK, I can’t resist. It’s too damn catchy and too happy to ignore. Tin Woodman have gone and resurrected the synthesised camp scifi souls of Midnight Juggernauts, Bondage Fairies and The B52s, and produced this it-thing of a single. It’s smothered and covered in electronic glam, with a more than small helping of B-movie shtick, 80’s beats and bright 70’s synths. There are breakdowns galore and meticulous vocals, and occasional breaks into old hiphop hooks. If you hear or see anything more chipper today, I’m not sure that I want to be told. And I’m not sure I’d even believe you.    

So who are or what is a Tin Woodman? From the sound one imagines a Buck Rogers Twiki hustled up in a lumberjack’s shack… This might not be too far from truth. Tin Woodman is indeed robotic. He, she or they have arrived here on earth to set us free to fornicate and enjoy. Made of circuits and pathways, there’s no setting for prejudice, so let’s hang up our hang-ups and dance. Better still, there’s a place based on 80’s Ibiza that’s been built in the skies for our pleasures; the Tropicalia Woodie Resort. If the music they play there sounds slightly like this, I’ll be taking the next outbound TARDIS.

But ‘til those space-faring tickets come through (and until I’ve re-sequinned my oxygen suit), let’s head back to the guts of the song. It’s relentlessly friendly, propulsive and kitsch. It promiscuously flirts with all things sugar voodoo and beams out a sweet smile and vibe. There’s a hint of a taste for acidic prog-rock, but it’s rightly and wisely reigned in.

This whole song is a series of neatly packed sweetspots that balances tastes and discussions; if you like indie or disco, one gender or others, why argue about what makes us different? And why the hell should we care? Fingers crossed sometime soon we might not need to travel through the vacuums of space to enjoy what we have here at home. Let’s just hope batteries come included.