Teenage pop sensation Jim E. Brown is an obese alcoholic who suffers from various degenerative conditions. Fresh off a string of sold-out shows across the world, Manchester’s beloved son makes his long-awaited return to Melbourne.
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Brown’s sound understandably draws from Manchester’s post-punk and baggy tradition. Drum machines and synths shimmer like a crap New Order. He wails like the Fall’s Mark E. Smith, if Smith was a shame-ridden depressive. He rhapsodises like John Cooper Clarke, if Clarke was raised on YouTube brain rot.