Curtains

The Curtains create brainy experimental artsy pop instrumentals for high school sweethearts to hold hands and awkwardly bob their heads to. Too oddly charming to label eccentric, this blend of distorted guitar melodies, beeping synthesiser build-ups and spastic "this feels right for now" drum patterns collide to produce the most accessible of inaccessible structures. The key to their success is probably the lightening fast pace at which the CD flits from moment to excited moment. Most songs last just a minute or two; enough time to let the band play with a sound, then leave it to sit while their combined efforts explore some new space. Despite its flighty behaviour, you won't feel as if any of the band's ventures go unexplored — you can count on the Curtains to come back to something if it feels right, just a few tracks later. A sense of happy coherence and consistency within an auditory planet made up of taking chances puts the Curtains a few baby steps ahead of their few peers. They appeal as child prodigies — full of wonder and propelled by inexplicable talent. Let's just hope they ditch or reform the little singing that appears on this record, the only place where their weird innocence is traded in for an irritated pull of the collar.