CLOR - Clor

London, December 31, 2005, a hair's breadth from the new year. Inside a suitably elegant gastro pub, waiting for the much-craved order, the eye wanders in search of some sheet of newsprint to pass the time, trying not to draw attention while looking intellectual and maybe even a bit charming. A page opened at random in search of the Premiership results, and lo and behold, attention is caught by a short piece that states, without mincing words: "Celebrate New Year's Eve tonight in the West End with the best English band of the moment. They're Clor, with their amphetamine-fuelled blend of pop-rock-dance. Before midnight they'll be DJing in Camden. Come in droves, and make sure you shell out those 20 quid that weigh so heavily on your wallet." The few in the know, faced with such a windfall, would do nothing but pull a face, thinking of the usual exaggerations of a British press addicted to chauvinism. The wise ones, that is, OndaRock's readers, would instead shrug off such shallow judgement and flock there en masse, well aware of the now-established quality of these mysterious Clor.

Notorious, but not yet truly famous. But we're almost there. There are five of them, they hail from south London, and they've been promoting - almost exclusively within their home country's borders - their debut album which, to keep things simple, is self-titled. Basic, sure, but certainly not stingy when it comes to surprises doled out over the long haul. Eleven tracks, varied, impermeable, plastic, synthetic, danceable, fragmentary, indecisive, frivolous, contentious, enthusiastic, unleashed. Don't be surprised by this long string of clashing adjectives. The contrast shouldn't be held against the imagination of these shameless newcomers. These lads love compromise, they flaunt it for all to see, they couldn't care less about form, yet still try to come across as trendy. Balanced rather precariously, under the guidance of the classic pop-rock duo of singer Barry Bobbin and guitarist Luke Smith, the five boys from London string together a series of songs with a derivative flavour, packing in so much stuff that in the end it all comes across as personal.

The opening trio of tracks makes the coordinates clearer: while "Good Stuff" kicks off at full throttle over an effects-laden guitar base that's almost gloriously prog, without forgetting the lesson of Muse, before condensing into a four-on-the-floor electro-rock beat, complete with cop-show guitar squeals, spilling straight onto the dancefloor amid breaks and mini-breaks (with synth keys bringing back to life the Jacksons of "Can You Feel It"), "Outlines" comes across as almost 10cc-style romantic and instantly becomes the unreleased single of a resurrected Gary Numan, once again speeding along in his beloved cars.

The result of these first scant ten minutes is neatly summed up by "Love+Pain", a little primer of electronic pop, alluring, enthusiastic, hysterical as befits someone who grew up secretly listening to the more accessible side of Devo. A true celebration of flanger-drenched guitars, syncopated rhythms and playful little keyboards, all within a blend that never lets up. And if that weren't enough, here comes Smith's ascending progression introducing the "Hearts On Fire" of these young men, smitten if not outright obsessed readers of the manual written by Rick Ocasek back in a 1980 that's never felt so close. And suddenly the dancing grinds to a halt - someone must have complained about the racket: better not call in the firemen and the police, let's calm down and dive into the folk of "Gifted", just a little treat to placate those old fogeys downstairs. Poor deluded souls: razor-sharp guitars blasting away, a sturdy, bouncy rhythm section, and here we are in the organised chaos of "Stuck In A Tight Moment", the usual indecision resolved with the clarity of expert alchemists.

Hypnotic dance music built on a synth break reminiscent of Simple Minds is what "Dangerzone" delivers, and it doesn't even need the life-raft of a chorus. The obsessive "Magic Touch" unfolds somewhere in the territory of Lcd Soundsystem. "Making You All Mine" is packed with time-signature shifts, its rhythmic base echoing a mix of jungle and trip-hop underpinned by a crystalline pop melodic streak. Closing things out with an ironic, lullaby-like gait is "Goodbye".

London, January 1, 2006, 2:00 a.m. on a cold morning still tinged with darkness. Along the edges of streets still buzzing from the celebrations, people wait for a bus that will take them straight to the concert hall. In vain. Even London is on strike. In the discomfort that turns into disappointment, flashing a smile - a charming one, vaguely intellectual - at a girl sitting three metres away can be surprisingly comforting. But the small victory lasts only a moment, before the effects of the previous night's drinking take an irreversible grip on the girl's stomach. Better to head home: some hot water, a sachet of Clor, against the stress and regrets of everyday life. Read the instructions carefully.

Ride the wave of great music

Add OndaRock to your favorite sources on Google Discover. Don't miss our reviews, milestones and latest news straight in your feed.

Follow on Google

30/04/2026