TOY - Rock skips a beat

Certain things should be called by their proper name, and only afterwards should affinities and resemblances of any kind come to light. The problem, at times, is finding that name: no offence to TOY, Britain's new next big thing with great, towering expectations, but they've landed us in quite a predicament. Because on a first listen (and even a second), it's hard to fully grasp the depth of the musical proposition these gentlemen are offering. Of course, if you stick to a surface-level inquiry, it becomes clear, if not blindingly obvious, where the five Londoners have drawn their sonic coordinates from: krautrock, post-punk, shoegaze are labels that would spring to anyone's mind, just by lending even half an ear to the rich amalgam the band has built. The thing is, these terms merely graze the edges of what is the idea underpinning the TOY sound.

Somewhat as happened with Horrors and S.C.U.M (especially the former, for whom the quintet opened a good number of shows) not too long ago, the level of synthesis and reworking here transcends the sum of its parts and unsettles every point of reference, carving out a niche that belongs exclusively to them. Faris Badwan and Rhys Webb's favourites, however, don't simply retrace the grooves laid down by those bands, but look well beyond, eyes fixed on the horizon, with a handful of ideas that could go places. Their formula refines the insights of their peers and flings them into the stratosphere, growing subtler, sharper, and possibly more multifaceted than ever. No, this isn't simply Ride crossed with the singular sound of Neu!; the matter is far more complex and nuanced, and the intelligence with which our heroes take on classics of such stature is rewarded with a recipe that is not only personal, but also a harbinger of scenarios still not fully explored.

With an ephebic voice of the most delicate texture, frontman and guitarist Tom Dougall leads his bandmates through the construction of twelve tracks that are hard not to call flawless in every respect. The fruit of the group's technical skill (worth noting are keyboardist Alejandra Diez's nimble contributions, as well as drummer Charlie Salvidge's razor-precise work, a true metronome), but not only that, the self-titled debut album manages to redefine the imagery that has been felt for years now on British soil (that of bands like White Lies, O. Children, and the like, just to give an idea), making it not only more epic, but at the same time sweeter and more brilliant. Take "Motoring", for instance, the first single released, and a telling case of nomen omen. Beyond its grafting onto a matrix that couldn't be more 70s if it tried, what's surprising is the use made of it, transposed into a framework that draws as much from the long tradition of English indie rock as from the tender romanticism of certain dream-pop.

Let's be clear from the outset: the album has nothing to do with the dreamy aesthetic current that has by now become common currency, though it does borrow its stylistic devices to readapt them and place them in contexts far removed from their origin. The walls of sound on "Lose My Way" are tempered by the infinite sweetness of the melodic line, which slips gently into the urgent layering woven by the guitars and keyboard. Likewise, the gorgeous instrumental section that opens "Colours Running Out", a mighty sonic charge (counterbalanced by the seven closing minutes of "Kopter", a lysergic coda capable of blending shoegaze, psychedelia and even drone into an organic, utterly fluid whole, enough to make Stereolab's "Jenny Ondioline" envious) leaves room for a passionate lyrical theme, yet as soft as silk.

They're just as committed to developing full-fledged songs as they are to crafting lengthy (and branching) sonic journeys, never favouring one path over the other: whichever route they take, they never let their guard down, keeping the quality bar set extremely high throughout. And even without their real showstopper, the thrilling "Left Myself Behind" that launched them last year, they're clearly not short of ammunition. The languid melancholy of "Heart Skips A Beat", fitted out with a broad, quasi-orchestral apparatus, manages to coexist in perfect harmony with the energetic drumming of the darker "Dead & Gone". And when a brief instrumental interlude like "Omni" finds just the right place in the album's overall flow, bleeding its sinister edges into the slow simmer of "Walk Up To Me", you give up even the last shred of resistance you had left.

Without wasting any time, TOY, following a long tour around the world (occasionally opening for some heavyweight acts), release Join The Dots just a year later, preceded by a title-track single that literally left listeners salivating.

Joining the dots, in other words. And we're joining these dots too, curious to see what picture emerges. What comes out is a band that, despite every other commitment, found the time and inspiration needed to reaffirm the qualities of such a debut: across the album's hour-plus runtime, everything that made the quintet's music great resurfaces with renewed drive and intensity, if not strengthened by the experience gained along the way. A confirmation worth more than a thousand surprises.

Anyone who loved the band's distinctive sound - that (to put it plainly) seething blend of shoegaze moods, krautrock rhythms and proudly British melodic attitude - won't have any trouble finding those same elements in this new effort too. Tom Dougall's languid, couldn't-care-less vocal delivery, Charlie Salvidge's metronomic drumming, Dominic O'Dair's walls of guitar, Maxim Barron's smouldering bass, Alejandra Diez's imaginative keyboards: nothing at all is missing from the quintet's tried-and-tested expressive formula, already boasting an enviable maturity right from their debut.

Rather than the what, it's the how that matters here: with the mood leaning towards a more pronounced overall relaxation, and a pop inclination showing through more decisively, there are definitely fewer concessions to towering motorik-flavoured excursions. No great loss, though, even if it means missing the thrills of a "Kopter": tracks of equal weight step in to keep the cult going. Right from the opener, handed over to the lengthy "Conductor", we're reminded of a band still capable of surprises, even within territory they've already explored. Here the drums lock into a spacey trajectory with a strong Hawkwind imprint, a new chapter in the quintet's most epic saga; in turn, the nearly ten minutes of closer "Fall Out Of Love" successfully steer the band's ambitions into psychedelic territory (with Diez, ever more assured of her own abilities, becoming even more decisive within the economy of the whole record), without taking anything away from the band's own nuances and character.

Setting aside the album's three longest tracks (the title track, propelled by Barron's driving bass, rounds out the trio), these same qualities are especially highlighted on the shorter, more direct songs in the batch, which lean more towards a lush pop dimension. We already touched on this earlier, but it's worth noting that this time round there's a good amount of instantly catchy melody on offer. From the jangly, all-out guitar of "You Won't Be The Same", to the expressive "lushness" of "As We Turn", right up to "Endlessly", whose chorus alone would be worth the price of admission, TOY line up a run of songs that lack absolutely nothing needed to become the new "My Heart Skips A Beat" and "Motoring".

Without big proclamations, without any huge or pointless overhauls, the five-piece reconfirm themselves as leading figures of the current British indie scene. Much to the dismay of their many detractors and those who still insist on branding them Horrors clones...

Alejandra Diez's departure from the band, however, has undeniably dulled the formula on Clear Shot (2016): the burning novelty that had impressed a good part of the critics has given way to a batch of stereotypes that don't add much to TOY's career, both because many of the new songs feature elements common to plenty of other contemporary bands, and because the harmonic construction shows a few signs of wear with the passing years.

There are still some decent episodes, though a bit old-fashioned: the Felt-like "I'm Still Believing" is something of a symbol of this new record. The melody strongly recalls Lawrence Hayward's jangle-pop adventures, even though it flows along like a solid single.

"Fast Silver" is one of the record's few breaths of fresh air, its noir atmosphere softened by an airy chorus. Here too we notice the band's radical change of pace, no longer shaping their sound through stormy synth masses, but through a more meditative approach, perhaps influenced by their recent collaborative project with Bat For Lashes. "Another Dimension" sits halfway between past tracks "Endlessly" and "My Heart Skips a Beat", but fails to pin down the right formula. "Clouds That Cover The Sun" evokes Tim Burton-esque settings, "Jungle Games" chains bass lines and guitars to Tom Dougall's dazed vocals, while Max Oscarnold's keyboard simulates a kind of spatial organ. And that very element used to be one of the band's most striking traits, one they've actually scaled back here. Closing the record is "Cinema", a decadent tableau somewhere between a western mood and a post-apocalyptic, desert-like climax, a sort of Horrors' "I Only Think of You", but haunted by synthetic motifs that drive the whole carcass forward.

But anyone who remembers the sounds of "Colors Running Out", the explosive motorik of "Kopter", or the syncopated rhythms of Join The Dots will likely be disappointed.

Pushing further down the path taken with Clear Shot, as 2019 opened TOY returned to the scene with Happy In The Hollow, a fourth album that lingers with greater confidence in a sound with clearly defined psychedelic outlines, enriched by folk shadings and well-judged reworkings of elements from their splendid past: a recalibration that speaks volumes about the band's intentions and the breadth of their references, about a challenge with themselves carried out to absolute success. While it's true that the chatter around their name has all but dried up, that doesn't change the fact that the TOY signature can still pique curiosity and stir passion, still a name worth banking on in a British rock scene that's all but collapsed.

If the stylistic palette alone already provides more than enough reason to listen, the songwriting and performances are no less compelling, essential pieces in the construction of the record. Not that Dougall pushes his voice any further than he has in the past - the catatonic couldn't-care-less quality of his timbre remains a trademark of the band - and yet, whether down to smart mixing choices or a compositional framework that shows it off to better effect, it becomes a central piece of the puzzle that is the new album, an essential hinge in its overall expressiveness. Caught, even, in a rare moment of romanticism (the flawless melody of "You Make Me Forget Myself"), substantial in its very elusiveness (the hazy dreaminess of "Jolt Awake"), it finds a context in which to shine, adding yet another shade to its range.

It's a fitting support for a supple, flexible pen, still capable of excellent pop turns (closing track "Move Through The Dark"), but above all the perfect accomplice for intriguing authorial detours, through which the record's great sonic breadth is brought out. With "Last Warmth Of The Day" weaving gothic textures and folk guitar work together with well-placed key changes and interesting compositional strategies (the chorus popping up out of nowhere, almost as if it were an extra verse), the band adds a new gem to its finest songbook, in an extraordinary display of class.

Their first album under the Tough Love banner, and the first work produced entirely by the band themselves, Happy In The Hollow opens the door to an alluring, unsettling maturity for TOY, pointing towards a top-tier future. Even if they never repeat the glories of their early days, their consistency will reward them in full.

2019 closes out with the release of Songs Of Consumption, a covers album that also folds in three bonus tracks already included on their previous record. Acting purely as interpreters, TOY lean on arrangements that remain almost always minimal, relying heavily on electro beats and drum machines, settling once again into that borderland between kraut, psychedelia and post-punk that has always defined their output. TOY pour their entire aesthetic into these eight tracks, leaning mainly on the narcotized take of "Down On The Street" by the Stooges (the track that opened the legendary "Funhouse", 1970) and on a reworking of "Fun City" by Soft Cell (originally featured on "Non-Stop Erotic Cabaret", 1981). As for the rest, there's the divertissement of revisiting Amanda Lear's "Follow Me" and sending the icy Nico of "Sixty Forty" into an endless loop. Guitars give muscle to "Lemon Incest", from the catalogue of Serge and Charlotte Gainsbourg, while the pointless rereading of "Always On My Mind" - which draws on the version already released years ago by the Pet Shop Boys - and the cosmic tribute to the Troggs' "Cousin Jane" add little or nothing. The record closes with the instrumental "A Doll's House", a soundtrack piece written by John Barry in 1973. There's no real compositional effort on Songs Of Consumption, and although it reveals TOY's uncommon ability to drape other people's songs in their own sound, I doubt this is the album we'll be reaching for in a few years' time when looking back on their finest moments...

Contributions by Matteo Trapasso ("Clear Shot"), Claudio Lancia ("Songs Of Consumption")

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