With their membership disjointed by geography – Sweden to France isn’t exactly a two-euro metro ride – it’s little surprise that Envelopes sound so borderless, a band without a root in one specific scene. Their jangling arrangements are impossible to place, yet parallels can be drawn: be fair, take your pick of melody-rich indie kids with sparkling eyes. Chances are they’ll stick.
So, nothing particularly fascinating nor revelatory then, a wickedly evil cackle or two aside. But come back a moment: a new album’s on the horizon, full of promise, so while ‘Life On The Beach’ might slyly swagger through its three-minute length with nary a care for breaking creative boxes, one suspects wayward blindsiders await. Certainly LP before this Demon was awash with tics and twists uncannily unlike modern pretenders to the indie-pop throne. This is a band whose adoration for the past – Pavement and their peers – does not produce imitation as flattery performances.
Potential remains on Envelopes’ side, and it’s with mildly baited breath that those bubbling with anticipation await Here Comes The Wind.
6Mike Diver's Score