That said, the spooky reverberations of intro Depths entirely shatter such preconception, instrumental throughout and incorporative of eerie steel pan feedback skirting around the sound of guitars hocking up over reverse delay. Then it's onto the straight and narrow, as Bowman bellows of night breezes whispering affirmations of emotion on the inescapably endearing Surfacing. The tempo is then cranked a fair few notches, as drivetime bass line and the treble howls of Bloc Party's Silent Alarm collide on Five Trees and despite being as throwaway as The Wombats whining on about poor pulling tactics, heads will continue to tumble over heels for it. O Maybe I still sounds beefier than an 80 oz slab of Argentinian shorthorn, and whilst swathed in effervescent pretence, is utterly indelible, metronomic drum cacophony thumping away at your aversions. New material includes the frenzied wallowing of After The Flood, the insubstantial wafts of Fine Light and overtly melodramatic closer Paper Thin. Yet their latest bona fide indie pop classic, the gold-plated string in their already inconceivably glimmering bow is Blind, as gangly verses stumble along beneath a chorus with its head in monochrome clouds, Bowman affirming to be "the hero they were waiting for". Palace probably shouldn't exist contemporarily, and Chapel Club's time should have come and gone with the absolution of impetus on high street "indie" yet irrefutably, their debut provides an irrevocably beguiling and ultimately intriguing experience. Bow before the regal presence of the unlikely lads and perhaps future heroes of Blighty…
