Disco de The xx: “XX”

I've had this on constant replay for the last couple days and am now on about my 12th listen, and I'm still captivated. This is one of the most impressive albums that I've heard in some time. Imagine 17 Seconds era Cure with Elizabeth Fraser from the Cocteau Twins sharing lead vocals, produced by Timbaland. That's the starting point for this bewitching set of tunes. From the opening INTRO through to the closing STARS, every song is a highlight and flows perfectly into the next one. Languid guitars, spare beats and casual, conversational tag team male-female vocals created a dreamlike sound with plenty of space and emotion. I'm cueing it up for another listen. Very highly recommended.

I fell for this album at first listen.

I didn't even have to listen all the way through; I was hooked by the first spare atmospheric guitar pluckings on the unfortunately-titled "Intro." (I only complain because it seems like a dismissive title; the song is so much more than a mere lead-in to other things.) Granted, I was predisposed to like it; I'd been seduced from afar by the rave reviews, the sexy group name and album title--is anything sexier than an X? Yes, four Xs--and the cool mystique. But there's a lot of well-reviewed stuff that sounds good in the dim light of a first encounter but doesn't hold up to the morning's harsh judgment, and the harsher judgment of succeeding days.

This, on the other hand, turned out to be one of those albums that gets better and better as I get to know it; I listen to such albums and end up almost amazed that they didn't already exist somehow; there is something primal and right about them, something sonically equivalent to a tetris piece that materialized from nowhere and fell exactly into a deep hole inside me that I somehow hadn't noticed before.

Granted, this album works partly by evoking other great albums that have come before, all the masterpieces of shoegaze and dubstep and trip-hop; in some ways it succeeds more as culmination and synthesis than as departure. Still, it succeeds at both; it differentiates itself because it manages to be warm and cool at the same time, without being lukewarm. The music is spare and icy, a nighttime cityscape viewed through a high-rise window; the heat comes from the vocals, a male and female voice talking to each other at pillow distance or closer; they only want enough backdrop to set the mood, and no more, because they're doing their damndest to never leave the bedroom--or, better yet, the bed.

But--importantly--it isn't the sound of love, exactly. It is many things, but it is not quite that; it is desire and codependency and lust, and the fear of how much colder it will all feel when one or the other leaves. The words aren't just the lies one hears on the radio or whispered in one's ear; they're also the real things one hears in one's head and sees written across a lover's face while their lips are busy saying other things: "Sometimes I still need you" and "I think I'm losing where I end and you begin" and "I'm setting us into stone piece by piece before I'm alone" and so on, and so forth. ("I'm sure you heard it before," they sing on "Heart Skipped a Beat," and if you're anything like me, you have heard it before, or thought it, or said it, or lived it--or all of the above. And you soundtracked it to Portishead, or Burial, or Massive Attack, or My Bloody Valentine, or Slowdive--but not this, because, of course, it didn't exist yet.)

And yet it does deserve to exist, and so much more--to be a soundtrack of its own, to be noticed and obsessed over in its own right, for its own considerable strengths. The XX are bold enough to dispense with most of the drumming and thereby create something new and unique; they are bold enough, too, to keep in both the warm breath of smoky soul and whispered lies, and the cold backdrop outside--the distant city, and the realities one can't hold at bay forever.

Still, again, this is one of those albums that leaves you crazy when you try to leave it cold. Like all lovers, it reminds you of others, and like all the best, it has its flaws, and it somehow manages to be perfect and unique in spite of them, and maybe even because of them. If you're anything like me, you might come up with reasons not to like it, or to hold it at arm's length. (I told myself that the male vocals were too mumbly, and the female ones too breathy, and that the songs were too varied in quality, because they range from "Perfect" to "Really Great.") Eventually, though, you'll find yourself wondering, "When am I going to spend time with xx again?" and realizing you just got together yesterday, and thinking you still need another fix anyway. And--and this is the truest test--you will be willing to forsake time with your other loves (Sorry, Joanna Newsom!) to make it happen. Actions speak louder than words, and the play count tells me more about my feelings for this album than anything I can set down here.

First off don't let the title mislead you - this album is very good. But because of its sparse and dark sound it conjures images of an under-lit lounge where heroin chic teenagers slowly move about a crush red velvet room feeling the ecstasy of the drug run through their veins and delight in the shared environment. Its sexy, hip, and low key. The problem is I feel like Chairlift did the same exact thing last year and a bit better as they weren't held to this ambient idea and had some variation. However, I personally feel I can not deny how artistically interesting this album is. In a world of larger than life pop stars make bigger and heavily produced music, independents, such as the fore mentioned Chairlift, Feist (and to a lesser extent D.C.F.C. and Hot Chip), are going more simplistic in their sounds; and in that simplistically comes easy and relaxed music that, quite frankly, you could listen to on a lazy day reading or napping. It becomes part of the space it plays in, or perhaps forces one to adjust their environment to it. Either way its a sign of a good album.

Heres hoping that xx stick around, make it through the inevitable indie backlash and sophomore slump, and are still making music in a decade. This isn't a great album, but it shows that they have something special, they just haven't realized it yet.

This album is nice. Wait. Retract that. This album is amazing and will change the way you listen to music.

I'm a sucker for rock, for heavy thumping beats and dirty blues. And although the Xx doesn't sound like anything you've listened to before, it does, at the same time, sound like everything you love. The vocals are smooth, the melodies are enchanting, the beats not too heavy, but driving. But most of all, the timing - that's what really makes this band amazing. They have you hanging on their every word, like the most popular and beautiful person you've ever crushed hard on. The music - you keep waiting for the beats with such a tantalizing building to the melodies that you feel yourself just lost. It's dramatic without being cheesy, and makes you lament and long for someone to share it with so much that you'd swear you're back in high school.

I love hearing the marimba played by any band, but usually it's covered by other instruments. To get an idea of what this album sounds like in comparison to other bands: everything - music, vocals, beats - is stripped down to its panties and photographed under candlelight. The result is dark, beautiful, melodic, private Polaroid-like music worthy of repeat listening until you fall asleep or fall in love. Or both.

I heard this band first on KCRW on Morning Becomes Eclectic here in L.A. Then I went to Europe for work, and every high-end store I walked into - in Paris, in London, in Berlin - seemed to have this playing. And I'm not exaggerating! I think my companions were ready to shoot me because I just wanted to stay in the stores where this was playing and wander around, listening to the music and letting my thoughts meander in and out of the beats.

Just quit reading reviews. Buy it and enjoy it. I know I haven't spent money on an album and been so incredibly satisfied in a long time.