Two Door Cinema Club - Tourist History (***)Initially resembling an emo-Foals, Two Door Cinema Club discover unexpected range across their full length debut. Pierce the production sheen and there’s much to admire; they echo the Rapture’s dancefloor-filling one moment (on This is the Life amongst others) and chirrup like Passion Pit on holiday the next (Something Good Can Work’s careful negotiation of the irritating/catchy high-wire). But it’s not all rosy: I Can Talk suggests the junk-heaped likes of The Bravery or Boy Kill Boy are a more consistent comparison - empty calories for the ears that whiz past unnoticed. That they were long-listed for the BBC’s Sound of 2010 poll comes as no surprise; like so many acts feted in Januarys gone by, the excitement their best songs generate dissipates too quickly for them to firmly find their feet. But sift out the filler and seeds of longevity remain, not least in You’re Not Stubborn’s up-beat finale.
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Sambassadeur - European (****)For all its sweeping strings and pop nous, Sambassadeur’s third album is an understated affair that initial listens might write off as underwhelming. At only nine tracks there’s little room for filler, yet the slight instrumental A Remote View is decidedly far from the peaks the Gothenburg quartet have it in them to scale. But the Cocteau Twins-like shiver of I Can Try, the sweet simplicity of High and Low, and the symphonic swell of Sandy Dunes will lure you back until, with startling clarity, the pieces fall into place. European only sounds like a compromise because it scribbles its delicately uplifting melodies on an immense Swede-pop canvas others have filled more vividly, but its subtlety gifts it a different kind of populist appeal. The world doesn’t want for happy-go-lucky indie-pop from Scandinavia, but there’s more to Sambassadeur than the odd Abba-echo or Spector tom-drum reverberation: they have heart.
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Alphabeat - The Beat Is... (*)Co-opting the sounds of yesteryear is hardly uncommon in pop, but it works better if the chosen template is, say, eighties electro, rather than the shitty fourth side of a Now That’s What I Call 1994 singles compilation. As Alphabeat resurrect Haddaway-style vocals, Ibeefa-house electric piano and backing tracks that practically warrant a ‘ft. Snap!’ suffix, it’s difficult to tell who’s having less fun – band or listener. Once in a while a slither of personality wrestles free from the Ace of Base production and smothering autotune, but that only makes the awfulness of their sophomore effort all the more lamentable – they’ve gone from refreshingly fun and up-beat to tacky euro-cheese, and in the process tainted in the memory the enjoyment that came before. As you rush to remove The Beat Is... from your speakers, try not to smudge the chalk outline of Alphabeat’s credibility.
Out Now
(note: i don't usually repost negative reviews - while i review whatever get sent my way by the skinny, i don't feel the need to harp on about the crap stuff here as well. when it comes to the bottle rocket blog, i'd much rather keep things positive. but alphabeat's latest album is so massively awful i felt compelled to state my position one more time: it's shit. don't listen to it.)
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