The XX – S/T (2009) [Rough Trade] // Grade: A

The XX might be my new favorite band. I loved them immediately in the same sort of way I loved the Pixies and Blonde Redhead immediately—which is to say, I loved them in a way that’s almost indescribable. They’re just one of those bands that either hits you in the gut hard or never hits you at all.

Don’t get me wrong: these four London 20-year-olds aren’t as hands-down brilliant as either of those bands, but it’s not a random point of reference; XX is clearly inspired by both, plus the Cocteau Twins to boot. This is a moody, spacious debut, all hollow texture and sweet, reverbed guitar—an album you put on at the end of the night when everything left from the alcohol-and-whatever-else haze feels melancholy and contemplative. It’s similar to, say, La Mia Vita Violenta in its weary hopefulness; not as well-crafted, no, but certainly occupying the same emotional space.

But by far the most stunning thing about XX is its simplicity. It’s not rare for only one instrument to run the show at any given time—the “Wicked Games”-esque guitar on “Infinity” or the clap-snap drums of first single “Basic Space”—and on the few occasions they amp it up with more than two layers, it’s so subtle as to be almost unnoticeable. Vocalists Romy Madley-Croft and Oliver Sim waft over everything, but their vocal trade-off is more like two people whispering half-asleep in the dark than harmony for harmony’s sake. Every sound, every note, every moody little melody has a place and purpose.

That’s not to say XX is problem-free–it definitely suffers from some blurring together of tracks, the result of every song being hollow and melancholy in a really similar way—but they almost don’t matter; this debut is so impressively developed and heartfelt, you can look past all the kinks the band has yet to iron out and focus on what they might be capable of doing two, four, five years down the line. I can’t wait to see where they end up.

- Rue Sauvage