Wild Beasts - Two Dancers (2009) [Domino] // Grade: C-

Wild Beasts’ sophomore release would be infinitely better without vocals. Not because Hayden Thorpe can’t sing, or his operatic falsetto is too different/over-the-top/easy to demonize. Not even because the vocal melodies are too boring to drive a song. It’s just that when Thorpe’s Antony-meets-a pitched down Klaus Nomi voice wafts in with such grandeur and import, you realize how seriously Wild Beasts take themselves—and it infects every good thing about the album. It’s sort of like the guy who whips out an acoustic on your first date and plays one of his “originals” while staring earnestly in your eyes. The thought is there (I guess), but it’s just impossible not to make fun of, you know?

It’s a total shame, because Two Dancers has the odds stacked toward it in a way the band’s debut Limbo, Panto didn’t. Vocals aside, this album doesn’t suffer from nearly as much self-conscious quirkiness or as many ill-conceived tangents. In fact, it seamlessly channels some pretty fantastic things: War-era U2, Peter Hook in both New Order and Joy Division, early Interpol, Joey Santiago, The Smiths. Even Thorpe’s voice (Tom Fleming’s too, which is just as grating) feels appropriate when it’s merely accented over a bridge or humming in the background.

But it all goes downhill mere seconds into each song. A track like “Hooting and Howling” is so dark and enigmatic from the start, the repetition so strangely interesting, it’s maddening to be reminded that Wild Beasts exist in a world with nary an ounce of humor. I mean, it’s just infuriating. Even Klaus Nomi and Morrissey—hands down the kings of operatic bravado and willful crooning, respectively—winked at listeners through their most dramatic overtures. And Wild Beasts? Not Klaus Nomi or Morrissey. Seriously, lighten up.

- Rue Sauvage