Pairing with then-Magic Band drummer Robert Williams, ex-Strangler Hugh Cornwell's first solo effort not unexpectedly sounds like a self-consciously bizarre cross of The Stranglers and Captain Beefheart. Though Cornwell wrote and sang the songs, Nosferatu is as much Williams' showcase as Cornwell's - Williams' rhythmic clattering’s help give the album a quirky sonic flavouring, making the material pretty accessible. Even so, this is dark, challenging, and inaccessible music by almost any other standard. Nosferatu was originally the name of a classic silent vampire film, hence the album's title and artwork. Combining gothic atmospherics and tune craft with the angular discordance of Beefheart is an ambitious move, so whilst this album can be an interesting listen, it's not always enjoyable. Such challenging music too often demands more from the listener than even repeat listens eventually deliver. The problem is not so much the sound, which is after all what's intriguing here, but the songs, which seem too self-consciously quirky and offbeat (in both the weird and rhythmic sense) to fully work. On first listen, the only track that stands out is a fair cover of Cream's "White Room", but that's only because it's the one song on the album that's even remotely commercial and likely included to ensure at least some airplay and sales. Not that there aren't poppy moments - the closing "Puppets" is pure electro/pop, and "Wrong Way Round" is nice'n'sleazy Stranglified pub/rock anchored in choppily angular Beefheartian guitar squiggles. But even the poppier numbers have too many discordant edges to go down smoothly - every time there's something resembling a danceable beat, Williams deliberately throws the rhythm off-kilter, and every time Cornwell delivers a smart hook, it gets too smart for itself and twists in a contrary direction.