**PIC Blur-endorsed Icelandic duo move from techno to post-punk on an itchy claustrophobic debut
The Concretes : You Can't Hurry Love
Joyous epiphany of the week...
Anyhow, imagine listening to The Raveonettes if they didn't sound like they've just done a shitload of really bad drugs and recorded an album while still on a comedown. Quite why The Concretes need eight people in their band is something of a mystery, but whatever the division of labour may be, it's working musical miracles. As far as we're concerned they can have a hermaphrodite monkey with gills and a trunk on xylophone and we'll just love them even more. When music is this good, this uplifting, all you can ever do is buy it, love it, cherish it then play it to all the gratingly morose Interpol fans you know and put it on your iPod 47 times.
When you're at Glastonbury having a miserable time trying to put up a tent in sheeting rain and a force eight gale, only The Concretes will be able to remind you that it really is summer. And you really do love saxophones.
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