The Infadels are Londoners who play thumping electro-punk-funk – a popular sound in recent times, but one that the group put their own twist on.
Their checklist of influences is familiar: New Order, Depeche Mode, Happy Mondays – bands that have hardly been short of imitators. However, the ‘Dels seem genuinely immersed in dance music, and spare us the oft-embarrassing spectacle of weedy indie kids trying blips’n’bleeps on for size.
They don’t do songs; each track on We Are Not The Infadels is an experience – shifting textures, building towards ecstatic climaxes, locking into hypnotic grooves. The pace only lets up once, on the gorgeously oceanic mid-album ambient breather ‘1’20”’. Otherwise, this debut album is a frantic, dazzlingly chemical experience from top-to-bottom.
The opener ‘Love Like Semtex’ is as explosive as its title suggests; a choppy dancefloor banger that uses Velvet Underground influences to create something theatrical and fun, rather than more piddling bedroom indie. ‘Girl That Speaks No Words’ points the direction that The Strokes should have gone third time out; a shimmering, melancholy pop song that New Order would be proud of.
The set closer ‘Stories From The Bar’ is a thing of epic magnificence – beginning with some breezy ‘Fool’s Gold’ vibes before spiralling into a blissed-out monster groove.
Complaints? ‘Reality TV’ is a sledgehammer dissection of modern man’s tendency to live vicariously through television that makes the Killers sound profound. At times the group sound like they are trying to build a Cosmic Scouse/Acid House hybrid – two sounds that should keep a healthy distance from each other at all times.
But let’s not be fussy – the Infadels are an exciting young group, whose respect for music’s recent history is tempered by a thrilling sense of abandon.