White Lies To Lose My Life...

The debut album from these promising Londoners starts somewhat worryingly, with opening track "Death" sounding very much like the Killers, but before too long Harry McVeigh's haunting, Hard-Fi-esque vocals float over a bass drum beat that kicks the Killers out of your head and the breath out of your chest. The vocalist's cynical, affecting lyrics ride a wave of '80s-inspired instrumentation that builds and then lulls, teasing the listener into an utter fascination that continues all the way to closing tune "The Price of Love." At times, the atmospheric fuzziness sounds suffocating but then the crisp clarity of the vocal cuts a breathing hole in the song and saves its life, as is the case with "E.S.T." This album unwittingly offers a rare, honest commentary on some aspects of British life, as the music embodies the dank, smothering melancholy of life in London's suburbs yet infuses it with personal hopefulness that makes things seem, for a few minutes at least, not quite so bleak. (Fiction)