The XX: XX

In a recent episode of Family Fortunes, they asked the audience "What would you expect four young adults from London to sound like?". 'The XX' was not first, it was not even on the board. Resulting in that sound, twice.

Ascending from (almost-literally) the back-end of nowhere, the foursome were barely done honing their sound before being swooped up by current label Young Turks and given the chance at writing and recording their début. What was created during that session happens to be one of the most surprisingly gentle releases we've come across this year.

Yes, their very words drip tenderly from the songs, hypnotising over the empty instrumentation behind. So simple, so calming, so relaxed and subtle. So strangely rewarding and slow-burning. Lyrically there's nothing specifically fulfilling but it's never become a detrimental issue to the album and the male/female harmonies work wonders over the dreamy-pop beneath. It would've been nice to see something a little deeper than the primarily love/love-lost based musings though, something a little more suited to the LP's tone perhaps.

There's something utterly intriguing and inexpressible tucked deeply within the folds of this début which is not often seen on most first attempts. They fill the air with a rich, deep haze and textured, sparse song-construction, remaining withdrawn but never seeming too unfriendly. Palm-muted chords echo throughout Shelter as lead female vocalist Romy Croft wanders gently over the scant landscape behind. It doesn't move mountains as such but it's a wonderfully reserved slice of tender music-making.

Admittedly the record is, well, pretty 'mainstream' in places, incorporating openly radio-friendly rhythms in places that ends up muddying what their actual intention seems to be. The jingle to Basic Spaces chorus wears thin after just a few runs and Heart Skipped A Beat displays Croft falling short of her usual vocal prowess. It's still melancholic and well-produced but it epitomises the oral annoyance that seems to pop up again and again the more records is repeated. It is forgiveable but still a looming problem which doesn't go away.

It's mostly their individuality that leaves the biggest lasting impression, followed closely behind the subdued atmosphere which emanates softly from behind their music. It's like actually witnessing silence as another musical tool and it aids in creating the strange, distinct style that the record excretes from start to finish. Tracks like Infinity and Crystalised tend to move away from the aforementioned fingerprint, but only to explore more detailed, less rewarding but admittedly needed territory. It adds just a little contradictory edge to the soft, glowing ambience of other material, filling out what some could perceive as a CD that's perhaps a little too attenuated at times. 

Though the painting is simple, the brushstrokes are too individual to ignore. The XX have managed to create a record that silences the listener, changing the surrounding mood and carrying you into their dream-world, stumbling once or twice but ultimately succeeding on too many levels not to recommend to anyone with a taste for well made, reserved musicianship.