Intricate drum machine patterns and throbbing bass lay down the foundations for opener Young Aren't Young, before Everdell's angelic lulls interject Friedman's trebled guitar reverberations. Killing It rejoices in a lovestruck minor key, whilst This Day Is Made cross-pollinates tribal plods with avant-garde trendier-than-Telepathe subdued tendencies. Dead Ending pulsates with beautifully constructed misery, as the thick guitars that permeate the duo's self-titled debut shy away from the louder levels twiddled on the mixing desk. Conversely, Gold Blood is as throwback as Bananarama, unfortunately as throwaway as Shakespeares Sister, and the hyperactive drum flickers of Last City paint vocals, guitars and synths into the predetermined numbers of monotonously pleasant indie, adding little to an occasionally two-dimensional act. Yet the ethereal balladry of The Beach enriches the pair's lessons in inverted progression, Pigeons is a bona fide alt.disco leviathan, and Commotion, with its slackened Bloc Party-esque compressed guitar intro is equally unforgettable, and uncompromisingly compelling. Less likely to disappear into the 5 Borough abyss and return decked out in chess board suits and rose-tinted psychedelic specs than MGMT, a little more agitating and seemingly agitated than Grizzly Bear, The National and The Drums combined.
