They’re still sombre, but the Manchester pop duo flirt with optimism on a fist-pumping third album
Does It Offend You, Yeah
“Let’s make out! Let’s make out! Let’s make out! Let’s make out!
Let’s make out! Let’s make out! Let’s make owwww! Lezmaycowlezmaycow!”
The first 15 seconds of Estuary Electrolites DIOYY’s new single begins like a loony’s lascivious plea bargain. Or a black widow begging to bite the hell out of Little Miss Muffet.
Singer Morgan Yeah? (we pray that this is his real name) sounds genuinely demented. His husky squeal is the noise Axl Rose would make if he stuck his todger into a very slowly rotating Philips blender. Or if his vocal chords got possessed by Ralph Wiggum.
DIOYY have been called a pastiche of French disco, that nonchalant school of Daft and Punk that counts the likes of Justice, Digitalism and the Ed Banger label among its more high-achieving pupils. And while you’d probably have to be a bit of a fat liar to deny the influences, this band are also about so much more. With its fizzling snap-pop basslines, ‘Let’s Make Out’ is an unholy alliance of Muse’s space-axe pyrotechnics and !!!’s long limbed p-funk. This is big-time pop, robo-pals.
And, like the best pop, it’s disgusting. Grotty like the loos of a biker bar on Sunset Strip; crusty like the dirty sock on the Chili Peppers’ cocks, rancid like The Rapture’s rusty cowbell, or Kasabian’s gak-heavy bass. And you’d swear that percussion sound in the chorus is the delirious noise of James Murphy getting slapped round the face with a mackerel. And despite having the worst band name since Anaal Nathrakh, Does It Offend You, Yeah? have still managed to make the year’s dirtiest anthem. Does it excite us? Oh yes.
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