Fats Thompson is/was the musical alter-ego of one Mr. Paul Dagarin, resident of the musical hotbed of Dunedin, New Zealand. Back in the mid-'90s, nearly every solo artist was hiding behind a pseudonym. Many big underground "bands" of the time, such as The Mountain Goats, Sentridoh, Palace, and Dagarin's countrymen Gate, Omit,and A Handful of Dust, were really solo artists who chose to release records under names other than the ones that they were given by mom and pop. Of course, the best of them had no reason to hide behind some sort of false name. Perhaps it was a reaction against singer-songwriter glut of the '70s (yeah, I mean you, James Taylor, Jackson Browne, and John Denver), or maybe it was an attempt to distance themselves from the rock-star foppery of the '80s (read: Billy Idol, Bob Seger, and Huey Lewis). Whatever the socio-musical genesis, one thing was for sure: more solo artists in the mid-'90s were tryong to distance themselves from the "solo artist" tag than ever before.But Paul Dagarin had no reason to hide his true identity. He wrote well-crafted, neat little pop songs on par with many of his other countrymen, such as Chris Knox, Peter Jefferies, Alastair Galbraith, Martin Phillipps, and Graeme Downes, and he had plenty of friends with stellar musical resumes willing to help him put his songs on tape. The result was a thoroughly charming record, equal parts tossed-off and crafted. Shortly after an appearance on the Trinder Records compilation, Does It Float?, the first (and, more than ten years later, only) Fats Thompson CD was released on Trinder in 1994. Few people noticed or cared.
Joined by the Dunedin version of a stellar cast--Alastair Galbraith, Bluce Blucher (Trash, Cyclops), Robbie Yeats (Dead C), Emma Milburn (Palo/Ona), etc.--Dagarin created a CD that is both intimate and immediate. It felt like he was sitting in your living room playing you some songs that he had just written that day, a few of which he maybe hadn't even finished writing yet. This record's biggest strength--besides the fine songwriting--is the warm, inviting mood throughout. Dagarin's voice cracks at times, and he doesn't have much range, but the songs work on their own terms. This record is full of tossed-off gems, casual little songs that might be half-baked, but never feel undercooked. It was a bright, auspicious debut, but Dagarin gave up music soon after its release, so it never received the attention that it deserved.
Download: Poor White Trash
Download: Too Much Jazz
