Words Dept.: entry

Here is an extract from the Guardian’s January review of the Klaxons’ album Myths of the Near Future, which won the Mercury Prize last night. Nothing like having your finger on the pulse, eh?

…The album is a mess of clumsy beats that never settle into a groove, lurching shout-along chants more suited to the football stadium than the dancefloor and unpleasant-sounding, overdriven bass. The songs descend the same chords repeatedly and ponderously, as if the band were falling down the same flight of stairs over and over again.

Most unforgivably, there’s the appalling production, with its curious emphasis on nasty, screaming treble. Stellar remixes from Simian Mobile Disco and Erol Alkan have shown that the Klaxons’ music is redeemable – by removing all trace of the original. But, given the current creative fertility of house and techno music, indie chancers trying to pass this ropey stuff off as a dance revival is insulting and pointless.

(1 star out of 5)

I have every sympathy with the reviewer, in fairness. I bought this album a few months ago and I’ve only listened to it a couple of times because I also think it’s crap. And now I can’t work out whether this means the Mercury judges are idiots, or whether I just need to leave my prejudices aside and get with the kids (man). I suspect the former but maybe I’ll give it a second chance before putting it on Ebay.

By the way, I reckon the Young Knives should have won.