In a different time and place you could easily imagine Mika strolling into the New York School of Performing Arts, armed only with a song and a burning hunger to be accepted. The unapologetic positivism of his debut album is richly reminiscent of a pre Aids idyll when pop could be sexual and innocent at the same time. Over arpeggiating synths and crunching power chords, his falsetto on Love Today delivers such lines as “Give her a dollar and she’ll make you smile” with a life-affirming zeal.

Even though there may be a song that cautions against “sucking too hard on your lollipop” (Lollipop), knowingness doesn’t come into it. In spite of what a brace of early critical maulings have implied, Life in Cartoon Motion would be a joyless affair if it had been brought into being by pop mathematicians. Besides, that’s what Hot Chip do, and people still love them for it. By his own admission, Mika is “a product of the greatest-hits generation”. That’ll be the Harry Nilsson CD, then, on Billy Brown — a big-hearted show tune that ex- horts its sexually confused protagonist not to let the stars get him down, and winds up sounding like a less ponderous Rufus Wainwright. Having tried “a little Freddie” on Grace Kelly, he spiritedly turns his attention to Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls on Big Girl (You Are Beautiful) .

He might have a head full of killer, then, but that doesn’t mean Mika isn’t prone to fleshing out his debut with the odd moment of filler. Listening to the hand-waving, bayonet-twirling plink-plonk of Stuck in the Middle, you wonder how he kept a straight face when affecting not to understand those Scissor Sisters comparisons. But even on Life in Cartoon Motion’s fleeting weaker passages, the carpe diem gusto of its creator is no small incentive to stick around. Persevere, for instance, with the makeweight “extra track” Ring Ring and you’ll be pleasantly surprised to find the startlingly sparse choirboy blues of the hidden track (confusing, isn’t it?) Over My Shoulder waiting for you on the other side.

Getting to the root of Mika’s empathy for the outsider — especially on the minor-chord Europop of Relax, Take It Easy — isn’t exactly rocket science. He isn’t the first pop star to gain strength from having been bullied to the point of breakdown during his teenage years. But there’s very little here that resembles previous efforts by, say, the Smiths, Tears for Fears or, more recently, Plan B. You can hear it emphatically in Love Today (“Love, love me !”) and Grace Kelly (“Why don’t you like me?”). But this isn’t self-pity. This is the point at which a plea for affection turns into a flat-out demand. And while the songs are this good, you’re too charmed to refuse. A happy ending, then. But, more importantly, one hell of a beginning.

(Casablanca)

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