Throughout Untouchable, Emmett "The Cairo Gang" Kelly is made bemused and dizzy by the sights swirling around him, the fraying sense of connection and people's need so keen to be self-aware that we write our own autobiographies before we should ever be called to witness, publish our diary pages and call them entertainment. As these instincts develop into interrelationships, contradictions abound for our singer. Dwelling in the head while noticing things – or waiting to notice things – and lyrical to the bitter-sweet end, The Cairo Gang serve up sweet-and-sorrow reveries of Untouchable, a breathtaking series of entanglements and attempts to break free, a trace of dolor wafting through their dancing riff works.
2015's Goes Missing sang to the listener of dreamy isolation through a disembodied production; parts assembled from different moments, times and places, and woven mechanical into an irresistible pop whole. Untouchable rewires the machine, spinning tales of dissolution from a shared space on the way to new hope. Cut live and immediate with shimmering waves of quicksilver guitar, telepathic harmony voices and scraps of yesterday's rhythm and produced glisteningly by Kelly and Ty Segall, Untouchable exemplifies the joy of science and the search for knowing: a tesseract-like bridging of musical and emotional dimensions that has formed the crux of so many essential musical admissions from the past half-century.
The shadows of the rock and roll era are cast long across the face of Untouchable – from the majesty of the soloing on "That's When It's Over" to the twinned leads, ascending arpeggios and Petty-esque sardonicisms of the closer, "What Can You Do?" Approach the unattainable on Untouchable – and having flown so close to the sun, promise to do so again, and soon. Gliding on the wings of sweet melody and the thrilling chimes of freedom is a rare thing, and a bird in the hand for The Cairo Gang.