It was a very wise move to open this eponymous debut with the quietly disturbing `Kid Gloves'. All its talk of `touching me', driving guitars and considered mew of a vocal create an affecting and competent opening. Elsewhere, sadly, the effect is less successful and firmly broaches wet nothingness; see `Ghost', `Stephen' and `Easy'. `Firecracker' provides hope. It is a lively indie-rock stomper and borrows one of Arcade Fire's crescendos. However, this promise is short-lived, and soon the listen returns to earnest but light, unadventurous indie schmindie rock-pop. `Blood Red Shoes' ends the album on a relative high, nodding agreeably, but is nowhere near as exciting as the band of the same name; Voxtrot are forever to be dullish also-rans (see Official Secrets Act). Packaging an album with a credible opener shows smarts but it counts for little when there is little in terms of substance to back it up.