Desperate Youth, Blood Thirsty Babes

Emerging out of the steamy sewers of Brooklyn, these four black guys and a token honky nerd, has had critics creaming their collective jeans since the release of debut Young Liars EP (worthy of purchase if only for their barbershop version of The Pixies' 'Mr Grieves') could for once justify the hype swooping around them. Produced by, and featuring Yeah Yeah Yeahs producer David Andrew Sitek, this is sonic alchemy of the highest order. Expect the unexpected and then expect some more.

They have been dubbed 'the black Cocteau Twins' (they're not) but come across at times like a drunk angry Prince fronting My Bloody Valentine, playing art-house tribal or the 'afrofuturists' they dub themselves. Vocalists Tunde Adebimpe and Kyp Malone swoop soulfully over and around lyric lines, one providing falsetto counterpoint to the other, melding abstract lyrics over the looping frenetic guitar, fuzzed bass and glitch drum tracks. Calling to mind the spectral early white-boy funk-punk-dub of P.I.L., the perverse genius of Brian Eno, avante-garde pop dreamers AR Kane, Talking Heads, The Wolfgang Press and a host of other early nineties 4AD record label musical refugees.

With their uncertain edgy viewpoints as outsiders observing and the frisson of technicolour genre clashes they concoct a tense, dramatic, soulful post-rocking that hovers on the edge of pop sensibilities with an eye on the murky underground before things get too comfortable.... Dramatics are presented in the rubbing of frail voices against electro feedback, solitary instruments bursting free to give life to the humanity against the machines. This is truly music for metaphors.

Recent single 'Staring At The Sun' is more approachable and manages to taint the bland chorus of 'staring at the sun, standing in the sea, your mouth is open wide' with a sense of foreboding and menace as vocals joust and slide and slip off each other in, as the hypnotic groove revolves underneath like a undertow threatening to pull you under, or containing something unspeakable.Barbershop meets pseudo doo-wop harmonies on the spiralling spooky-accapella of 'Ambulance', 'Poppy' sounds, as it breaks down thrillingly from strident stomp of tribal march to spiritual vocal and back up again stronger, stranger and more soulful than either of the reference points.

Knowledge that true drama comes in creating tension in these stalking tunes that circle on the edge of the cliff without charging into the obvious sonic bombast is one of the compelling strengths of TV On The Radio. that would be disappointing if they followed them through. Conflict and no resolutions mark their work out as standing up to repeated listening to reveal more depths.

Like Shrek, TV On The Radio have layers, and while the casual listeners seeking immediate pop thrills may be disappointed, those digging in for the haul will be delighted for delving into the psychedelic fog for these strange and rewarding musical pearls. Read more ›