The xx

I'd heard quite a bit about the debut, self-titled album of a band called The xx, so I finally picked it up a few weeks ago, and am just now listening to it with some attention. I like it, though it's difficult to classify. At first listen it can come across like "music to slit your wrists by," performed by the tragically hip, but if one peels back the layers it's a peppy, poppy suite of songs.

The xx are fronted by a male/female pair: Romy Madley Croft and Oliver Sim. They share vocals on most of the songs, as if it were dialogue in some ongoing relationship. Almost all of the lyrics appear to be relationship-oriented, a throwback to the early days of rock and roll. Their sound also has an antique quality to it: the guitar has plenty of reverb, and the drums (or here called "beats") are deep and booming, just how I like them. The opening track, an instrumental suitably called "Intro," gets the theme going wonderfully.

The xx take this old-style musicianship and give it a space-age twist, though. The vocals are the kind common among shoe-gazing bands: Croft's is breathy and ethereal, while Sim's is droning. All of this mixes together to give the band a distinct sound, but it doesn't deviate much from song to song.

The best cuts have good riffs and hooks. I liked "Shelter," which Croft takes on herself, and "VCR," which seems to be a winking look at a relationship from a previous generation (the band members were all 20 years old when they recorded it, hence the name xx, and probably don't have much hands-on experience with the antediluvian videocassette recorder). The closest thing to a standard radio-friendly single is "Heart Skipped a Beat." I didn't care for "Fantasy," an experimental bit of noise that tests the patience of the listener.

Listening to the album put me in a nice state of mind, a kind of sonic reverie. After a few listens it gets redundant, but it's nice to know I can pull it off the shelf and return there at a moment's notice.