As soon as you press play on Sonny J's debut album Disastro, you'll know his FM-smashing single Can't Stop Moving was no mistake. The elusive Liverpool turntablist, now living in a beach hut, has thrown together arcane American telephone conversations that could have been ripped off a parallel universe remake of Hi-Fidelity with big wobbly basslines, euphoric strings and giddy breakdowns all splattered with ten tonnes of soul. His hyperactive, DMC-goes-crate-digging-in-Oxfam interpretation of soul, that is. It's a record where the highs are higher and the lows are gently, softly, lower.. The opening track, Enfant Terrible, confirms this. It's an international girl-group smash powered by monolithic guitars, rapping French schoolchildren, crowd power and sassy-sweet vocals. Forthcoming single Handsfree (If You Hold My Hand) is a heart-stopping northern soul-goes-country, with extra undercarriage. The title track strips the song into it's basic parts: a Saturday teatime TV car chase, a cog-whirring guitar riff and a wild kaleidoscope of crazy-legged 'Pelham 123-'goes-hip-hop-adelic madness. There's even an introspective, cloud-busting singer songwriter moment - Sorrow. But mostly it's hyperkinetic, neon-tinged inter-galactic pop where listeners are as likely to be swept off into the middle of an imagined lost-in-music dancefloor as transported to the castanet-shaking planet tango. And right at the end, on Sonnrise, Sonny takes a Johnny Cash-style country lament and places it squarely over a West Coast backing vocal and his trademark cut n paste sonic obscurities. So what else can we tell you about Mr Sonny J? He claims his real name is Sonnington James III. He loves Japanese weather reports, customising football kits (his latest is a red n yellow version of the 1981 Flamengo Adidas classic; the one Zico used to wear apparently!) and singing for his supper in the most unpromising seaside charity shops. His DJ sets sound like Doris Day kidnapped by Motorhead, all washed down with generous helpings of cut up future funk, nasty 80's power rock, spaced out b-boy nuggets and general dirty electronique madness.. "Can't Stop Moving incorporates beaming psychedelia, junk shop beats and a northern soul vocal that suggests Betty Wright on helium, being baked under a lysergic sky."