Review by Mark Bentley First Paddington Bear and now Sergio Montoya. It seems Peruvian exports are on the up. Whether it's the weather in his native land or the mixed bag of influences working on this mad axe-technician, Sergio Montoya has come up with a lucky dip of a record so enjoyable, so variously inspired and yet so odd that you struggle to put a tag on it. Attempting to lump Gaijin Toruku in with any kind of 'pop' product - mainstream or otherwise - is essentially a half-arsed exercise, but imagine a strange homebrew of punk, prog, Zappa, The Pixies, lounge jazz, and The Fall and you're halfway there. Then pretend that Black Sabbath took this concoction to a Captain Beefheart fondue party and you're warmer still. But this alt.rock/powerchord-fuelled fretboard frenzy, sung in both English and Spanish, is much more than a rehash of old influences - there is enough creativity, enthusiasm and original talent here to mark Gaijin Toruku out as something decidedly different. Ably assisted by the self-styled Wiltshire yokel boy Nick Boon on occasional vocal spots, Montoya handles all musical duties himself. And it's a credit to his own unruly creativity that at no point does this record sound samey - each time you think you've got the knack of a track, some bizarre tangent presents itself, sending the music off into new and, frankly, unexpected directions. Gaijin Toruku kicks off with 'The Public Enemy', an off-hand dark and funky workout completed by Zappa-style trills and an unwieldy guitar solo, and moves into the more conventionally alternative 'Narcissus', with echoes of Todd Rundgren, rocking out into jazz-inflected breaks and an ear-catching chorus. The lighter, jazzy melodies here are sometimes offset by downbeat and disturbing lyrics - the set is full of broken images and perverse ideas, Nick Boon's scream-whispering, reedy voice complementing the darkness of Gino and Sergio Montoya's words. But at its heart this record wants to pogo jump, stagedive and rock out, as evidenced by the fist-clenching 'Dreamer of the Impossible' and the title track, with its tasteless and hugely enjoyable synth-break. The punky 'Las Ratas en el Cine' and the sassy, samba pull of 'Morada/Cuadrada' drive the album along at frenzied pace - it's a pleasure to hear the sound of musicians enjoying themselves. But for my money, the best is saved for last. 'Gringo McKenzie's Mine', is a top-drawer funked-up freak out with the breathless randomness of a Tom Wait's lyric and the sensibilities of stoned California acid casualties. "And we bit the shit out of him with a shovel" screams an intoxicated-sounding Nick Boon in this unholy marriage of black humour and dark grooves. Granted, this album may not be for everyone, for beneath the accessible melodies and impressive guitar work lies an essential awkwardness, and a perverse uneasy listening. But, like Montoya's Peruvian bear-brother Paddington, you may find this particular mash-up of styles as indispensable as marmalade sandwiches.