TOY - TOY

Certe cose dovrebbero essere chiamate col loro nome, e far sì che solo in un secondo momento saltino fuori attinenze e somiglianze, di qualsiasi carattere esse siano. Il problema è trovarlo questo nome, talvolta: non ce ne vogliano i TOY, la nuova next big thing britannica dalle grandi, grandissime speranze, ma ci hanno messo in un bel pasticcio. E ciò, perché a un primo ascolto (ma anche a un secondo), risulta difficile inquadrare a pieno quale sia lo spessore della proposta musicale offerta da lorsignori. Certo, limitandosi ad un’indagine superficiale, appare chiaro, se non chiarissimo, da dove i cinque di Londra abbiano ripreso le proprie coordinate sonore: kraut-rock, post-punk, shoegaze sono definizioni che salterebbero in mente a chiunque, basta porgere orecchio anche di sfuggita al ricchissimo amalgama costruito dalla band. E’ che con questi termini non si fa altro che lambire i margini di quella che è l’idea alla base del suono-TOY.

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.

Un debutto strepitoso, la conferma di quanto il rock inglese sia tutt’altro che morto.

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04/09/2012