It is a story that began 55 years ago, and it is not even Belgian. It's the story of Robbi Curtice, a young Londoner in the 1960s who dreamed of becoming a star and who, after trying his luck quickly, went into exile in Cyprus to become a teacher. But rock, by chance, catches up with him in the early 2000s, in what looks like a Sixto Rodriguez remake, when French director Serge Bozon stumbles upon Robbi's 1970s track Gospel Lane. With the help of composer Benjamin Esdraffo, also a fan of American garage music and Northen Soul, the filmmaker decided to track down this unknown connoisseur and have him record some songs in Paris. And the result is this astonishing first album, halfway between Foxygen, the Lemon Twigs and the great Paul Williams of Phantom of the Paradise. And so, at an age when his compatriots are releasing best-of albums, old Robbi Curtice releases this very fresh Nothing To Write Home About, a first album that sounds like a revenge, 55 years after the false start of this Englishman whose "career" looks like a marathon.