Trying to adequately and accurately convey just how wonderfully captivating The World / Inferno Friendship Society are is like attempting to juggle a quartet of rabid dogs while explaining Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity to a tribe of Neanderthals who have been displaced in time. While difficult, arduous and undoubtedly thankless, it can be done, but it’s a task that few sane individuals are willing to undertake. Fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be, and thanks to numerous blows to the head, my grasp on sanity (or so I’ve been told) is tenuous at best so I’m willing to attempt, and almost certainly fail, to do the impossible.
More akin to a glorious musical carnival that draws inspiration from every aspect of modern and not so modern musical culture than the traditional concept of a band, The World / Inferno Friendship Society have, for the duration of the existence, shunned genres and refused to be pigeonholed. They are all things to all women and all men, and tread the boards somewhere between jazz, punk rock, music hall, rock’n’roll, Americana and soul and All Borders Are Porous to Cats continues their magnificent legacy of doing things their way in grand style. There isn’t a single wasted moment on All Borders as World Inferno veer from one beautiful musical cliff edge to another with an ease that would have made Frank Zappa weep tears of frustration and seethe with jealousy. We’re only seven days into twenty twenty and I think I may well have spent the last seven hours listening to the record of the year… Tim Cundle