Well, Ricky Leroy Brown has gone and done it, presenting us with “SEXUAL MANUAL FOR EXPERTS,” and I confess, the title alone sent my mind skittering off like a startled cat at a séance. This solo Madrileño, who conjures entire soundscapes from his own hands and instruments, is clearly still communing with the spirit of Prince, all slinky guitars and a rhythm section that could charm the hinges off a bank vault.
And charm it does, with this funky, pop-infused strut. There’s a definite “goofy but sexy” shimmer to it, a playful nudge even as he seems to be suggesting things one doesn’t typically discuss over polite crumpets. The track is, quite intentionally, devoid of explicit terms, relying on suggestion, those “magic words,” and a recurring “Babey, ooh” that feels less like a pickup line and more like a bewildered punctuation mark in the face of… well, everything.
Because beneath the undeniable groove, there’s a surprising ache. Brown laments a world that’s seemingly misplaced its better self, like a favourite pair of spectacles. Liberty, equality, common decency – he implies they’ve become faded concepts, memories of a sunnier room we can no longer quite access. It’s a curious concoction: a danceable treatise on societal disillusionment. The effect is rather like watching a particularly elegant mime depict the slow, inevitable creep of rust on a magnificent, abandoned carousel.
This autotune-free offering, so very “Ricky,” leaves you with this delicious, slightly unsettling aftertaste. It’s got that raw, human feel, a palpable sense of one man wrestling with big feelings and even bigger beats. Are we meant to dance through the decay, or is the manual itself a symptom of it? I’m still not entirely sure my feet or my thoughts have quite settled.
