“Suspension of disbelief!” barks Charles Hayward at one point during Abstract Concrete’s self-titled debut. Some of that medicine may be needed during early exposures to this wildly ricocheting twisted fairground ride of bristly avant-pop and unwieldy prog-funk. The fruition of the veteran drummer/vocalist’s intent to be part of a fresh band creating new material after revising his pioneering work as part of This Heat, Abstract Concrete can initially be almost unsettling with its unexpected contortions.
It’s not without its challenging quirks: Hayward’s hoarse growl isn’t ideally suited to carrying some of the richer melodies, and a few of the slighter tracks – although held aloft by righteous indignation – veer dangerously close to the self-consciously odd avant-garde acrobatics of, say, Frank Zappa. But ultimately Abstract Concrete deserves a hearty round of sincerely-meant applause: at an age when most veteran musicians get a pat on the back for doing what they used to do, only worse, Hayward (now in his early 70s) pushes on into uncharted territory, mainly succeeding.