An oboe and a synthesizer collide in the first seconds, glamorous and slightly unhinged, and Bryan Ferry starts listing places as if a postcard had been cut up and thrown into the wind.
A cathedral of synths opens as if a mass had been remixed for a club, Latin already muttering underneath, and Neil Tennant's voice comes in looking back, already ashamed, already pleased to say so.
In September 1991, a trio from Aberdeen put a baby and a dollar bill on the cover and, inside, a set of songs that sounded like a room being rearranged by force.
A soft drum machine and a guitar figure begin almost politely, and Tina Turner's voice enters with a question that is not polite at all, love set aside like a coat she has decided not to wear.