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Blogged about from when ‘The Internets’ meant a load of fat guys chewing on snake-like cables and pressing buttons on Cadillac sized boxes (or ‘COM-PUT-ERS’), The Sounds are almost too perfect to be true. A sour-faced-looking gang of dudes led by blonde-haired über-fox Maja Ivarsson who, you’d imagine, wakes them up on the tourbus by walking across their hands in her stilettos. They’re all fash-mag pretty and look like they’d out-stare you in the queue for Club NME.
This, their signature tune, is sleeker than a rubber body-stocking. Scientifically intricate with its powerchord chorus and shiny keyboard lines, this inescapable new-wave humdinger shimmies across the dancefloor of your future with such unfettered style, it’s hard to imagine how you lived without it.
Its straddling status as pop monolith is suggested by the fact it can be heard everywhere from your local multiplex (featured in the Drew Barrymore/Hugh Grant love-in Music And Lyrics, popcorn fans) to music channel The Box to drrrrty nights in White Heat.
Like Blondie before Debbie Harry became a bag lady or MSTKRFT body-popping with Nico (before the smack years – otherwise that would be just plain messy), ‘Tony The Beat’ is the first great pop song of 2007. We imagine (alleged) fan Britney Spears heard this, realised she and her harem of writer/producers could never top it and shaved her hair off to mark the end of her pop reign.
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