91Èȱ¬

( It's grave.)

As is often the way of things, it's these bits which stick in the mind that pack the most punch. An ambiguous phrase, an incongruous noise, that kind of thing., Even the slightly ham-fisted mixing adds life to the picture. An arresting, churning wafty synth pad is a wonderful thing, but it's too clinical, too cloudy to get to grips with emotionally, over the course of a minutes-long pop song, even if it's been chopped into a rhythm. What you need is the tiny imperfections, the bits that make it feel truthful.

Like the little hiss that arrives just before Alice starts singing. It's like her ghostly presence has entered the room, and transforms a stately, icy blast of whooshy electro into something more human, but only just. It's unsettling.

The same goes for the tiny little squeaks at the beginning that sound like a repetitive cough from Sweep out of Sooty and Sweep, or the slowed-down mooey voices towards the end. Tiny details which don't NEED to be there, but which add flesh to the bones. And as it's a supernatural, eerie sort of a song, it's probably elvish flesh, or undead muscle, on ghoulie-bones.

Not that I'm listening to any of that, you understand. I'm nice and safe here in my little ball, pondering, with my eyes shut.

Naturally.

Download: Out now


91Èȱ¬ Music page

(Fraser McAlpine)

"Each note sung during the song sounds perfectly, beautifully delivered and meshes so well with the backing music."

" Alice comes off as defanged and (gasp!) sensitive."

"The duo's intentions [are] clear: to hold the listener at arm's length, even as the songs beckon."