Richard Chartier’s Pinkcourtesyphone operates at nexus of recollecting 20th century anxiety and opulence. Over the course of this project he has created a lush and overtly queer sound world of drifting rouge atmospheres, smudged lipstick electronics and cavernous architectures that dwarf the sense of human interaction in favour of omnipotent acoustic voyeurism. All Intensive Purposes aches with a deep sense of longing, held aloft with tangible suspension. Voices and sounds float, haunting a murky, aged and diminished mansion. The music hums a tune of a song forgotten, amidst the satin-like sheen of perfume that has sat too long, thick in the air.
'A decade has passed since Pinkcourtesyphone's unexpected debut album 'Foley Folly Folio' (LINE)... time does fly in face of expectations, since expectations are just future resentments. 'All Intensive Purposes' is a lush compliment to Pinkcourtesyphone's previous outing for Room40 'Leaving Everything To Be Desired' Immured within the deep deep pink velvet lining of their sonic smudge satchel ooze forth the obsessions and peculiar delicacies that have captivated both Pinkcourtesyphone and audiences alike. Moody glowering, ghostly utterances re situated, hissy, distant and sad, all the while light and tender.
It is that sound that is at the fluffy heart of a long string of successful though surprisingly varied albums. A new sparkling jewel that already gathers cloudiness in its facets. This album can be best characterized by one word — charm, well, maybe two words — questionable charm. "I could listen to it for hours" — a possible proclamation for these inconsistent consistencies. Theoretical A and B sides makes one long for the warmth of antiquated plastic possibilities, if only for a moment to distill the gnawing hungry need for consumption within. Seven "songs" lilt and wallow, indefinable, intangible, yet always... there. This is "catastrophe muzak", the sound of sympathy, romanticized and ruined. Here is a collection of moods which we anticipate and enjoy with no misgivings. A long trail of evening debris awaits your ears' pleasure. Let it procure that pleasure for you, let it devour you. I can’t imagine... you will.' - Pinkcourtesyphone