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I was curling my top lip out five minutes ago in frustration, trying to think who the second track here reminded me of. It was then that the dreadful image of Peter Cetera singing a ballad by Foreigner came floating sinisterly into the vacuous and hideously-lit main arena of my mind and I realised this is where the post-Animal Collective technicolour psych-folk-electronic-pop bubble bursts, dousing your new suede shoes in something rather gelatinous, "aromatic" and unsavoury. This album ain't something I will easily gain pleasure from and I've heard a lot of wistful bedroom dream-pop in recent months. Most of it has something interesting to recommend it, even if its just a couple of strong songs or an idiosyncratic sound palette.
This Danish lad has been thrust into the spotlight by the increasingly schizoid 4AD and he sounds like a cross between a startled deer caught in headlights and someone quietly confident of world domination, or at least conquering a few girls hearts. For 'Somewhere Else' is pretty bleeding vapid stuff with some admittedly impressive production flourishes dotted around. It's the aural equivalent of watching a 16 year old girl dressed in dungarees with a massive fucking daisy embroidered on the front consume an ecstasy tablet and roll around in your garden smugly gurning for all eternity. Cute for a nanosecond then gratingly, awfully sappy and ultimately more annoying than me when I'm annoyed. Now, that is fucking annoying.
He's blatantly of a more positive frame of mind than a lot of artists I enjoy, say, given that the world is completely fucked I want hard liquor, clenched teeth and woes, not candy floss, pretty trees and endless sunshine. 'Reality Sublime' alarmingly sounds like Cliff Richard by way of Nik Kershaw and could easily have stadiums full of ecstatic mums clapping and waving their lighters about, maybe an unhooked bra or two. If it wasn't for the strange disembodied wonky chime-esque keys giving off cool eerie Knife-esque vibes I'd simply not have been able to stomach this track.
The arrangements are just far too bland and lightweight for my tastes but occasionally appear to be laced with something subtle or enigmatic, like on 'Cakelayers', an otherwise average strum-along with that bloody Scando-puppy-dog falsetto, a tune a half-decent busker could knock off without a thought, given credence by the inclusion of this lovely sad rustic synthesized string melody that I could listen to for days. But of course, it's only a brief cosmetic dusting which leaves me furious, rocking backwards and forwards on my sofa like a crazy man.
Don't view me as a bitter jaded dude too strongly, I absolutely loathe label-mate and astronomically popular cabin-dweller Bon Iver and I'm enjoying Indians' debut more than his so there's actually hope. I merely request to hear an album of Soren Lokke Juul's instrumental keyboard musings and I'd then probably shag his leg off. Fickle like that I am.
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- Somewhere Else by Indians
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