Though it’s highly unlikely he’s adopting a legraising, arm-extending pose when observing “backpackers pack their saddle on my penis”, Toronto’s Arabesque unfurls a decent, gritgargled flow, posing peeved punchlines and making the most of approachable organ jerks and a tumbling sunny guitar lick. Something to settle the stomachs of those who think Canada remains an infertile area of up-and-comers.
5 Out Of 5
Reviewed By: MATT OLIVER
