Teeming with infectious hooks and delicate textures, Keady & Vallins stacks up favourably against now heralded titans of soft pop / yacht rock and pop disco‐lite, living in the intersection between Bobby Caldwell, Steely Dan, and Saturday Night Fever‐era Bee Gees. Keady & Vallins is an all-too-familiar story of potential left unfulfilled — glorious pop music shunted by the impetuous thrums of a music industry stricken by decadence and a preference for high turnover and rigorous proprietorship. A tour with the Bee Gees by Vallins and help from Robert Stigwood resulted in a deal with Polydor. After a pair of singles produced by a young, upstart (now hugely important head of Universal Music Group) Lucien Grange achieved moderate success in France, an album was next: taped by Keady and Vallins during downtime from other sessions. They pulled world class talent from the studio, from the pub down the street from the studio, while also (temporarily) pilfering instruments from the shop below the studio (price tags still affixed) — to create a striking blend of sepia-toned soft pop / yacht rock and pop disco- lite. Born out of a quick friendship turned decades long songwriting partnership between Gary Keady and John Vallins, the full-length record was meant to be a mark of the duo’s growing promise as songwriters at Chappell — the publishing house’s self-proclaimed Australian facsimile of the American duo Hall & Oates (or maybe a two-person Bee Gees?). But that’s not what happened, is it.