A pick-me-up of an album
Remember where you heard it first, folks. 2012 isn’t about our impending doom and it certainly isn’t about some fuckers running around a track in east London. This year, it’s all about the dream-poppers of recent years growing some balls/gaining confidence (delete to your taste) and letting us hear their wistful jams. Thanks in part to the production hand of [a]The Black Keys[/a]’ Patrick Carney, [a]Tennis[/a]’s Motown ditties have surfaced from underneath their fuzz pedal. What we get is a rather good second album that contains some of the brightest and jolliest music you’ll have heard since the last time the world slid into the abyss.