As the expansive shoegaze soundscape of Never dawns blindingly over the fuzzy shores of latest LP Rox, bass lines and howling guitars seething with a smothering of reverb stumble fancifully over one another like demented dogs with eyes full of sand. Swedes
Mixtapes & Cellmates, whilst pertaining to more than a nod to Shout Out Louds, don’t necessarily confine to the enamouring lo-fi drudgery for which their compatriots oft opt, instead employing a wilting grandiosity weighted down by heavy hearts, like blustering leaves enslaved by stone paperweights. Soon revels in an exhilarating outcome of extensive industrialisation, with main man Robert Svensson declaring “We can have a good night, just standing by the factory” in an ode to seclusion, whilst Sunday rips heart strings from gaping gullets, almost reminiscent of the 80s power balladry of John Waite in the album’s moment of crowning beauty and divine reverence. The rowdier side of Mixtapes & Cellmates’ plea is in turn their imprisoning, with the likes of Lesser Half of Cynical Boys drifting spasmodically into realms of repelling disaffection, and it’s their nostalgic baying for melancholic boy-girl vocal duels and intensified emotion that sees Mixtapes & Cellmates justify their unceremonious ditching of their previous electro glitch tendencies.
