Instrument-making Italian duo reveals a downbeat electro debut of some heart.
James McMahon 2010
Say what you like about The xx ("Cheer up miseryguts, it might never happen!" is my preferred suggestion), but in dressing old Morcheeba songs up in the neighborhood Goth’s hand-me-downs, they’ve done a sterling job in repopularising the sort of adult-orientated easy listening the lawyers in This Life used to have sex on the sofa to circa 1996.
Italian duo We Love (one Giorgia Angiuli and Piero Fragola) plough a similar groove to the aforementioned emperor’s new clothes. They’ve got songs called things like Ice Lips and Escape Destination. They dress in a colour scheme that sticks stubbornly to black and white. Chances are they were both voted "‘most unlikely to instigate a conga on New Year’s Eve" upon graduation from secondary school. More so, like The xx, they’re just one astute music critic (hey, like, thanks!) from bringing down the house of cards they’ve assembled around themselves by bellowing, "HEY! GUYS! YOU SOUND JUST LIKE ZERO 7!"
Yet while the music of We Love’s debut is no edgier than something yer average Soho-based graphic designer might enjoy given control of the iPod, there are moments of heart that pervade their seemingly synthetic soul. Cruise Control is the sort of bleepy-yet-euphoric Euro drone Stereolab used to be so adept at making around 1997’s Dots and Loops, while Underwater succeeds in being both unnerving and yearning, as well as deliciously squelchy.
Not only that, but they make their own instruments; chic, bright white Kubrick-esque moulds of plastic that look like an insight into Nintendo’s plans for Xmas 2030. Case in point: their midi controller is in fact sponsored by an Italian furniture company. This is a nice, interest-inducing hook for a press release that also includes at least seven words so oblique that I had to Google what they meant in writing this up. But it also means they’re making a smattering of noises you might not have heard before.
Not anything particularly revolutionary mind, but enough to make their music viable to graphic designers, as well as housewives, coffee table designers, and rutting, oversexed trainee lawyers.
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