Sleigh Bells’ debut was gimmicky, and I say that with no malice.
What’s wrong with a little bit of Barnum and Bailey-style showmanship? What’s wrong with sequins and tassels? What the hell, after all, is wrong with trying to draw a crowd? Treats (2010) was a sequined carnival-barker’s outburst. It took a big idea, wrapped it in showy production, and jammed it the fuck down our throats. I admire the chutzpah. But who expects to be playing Treats in 2020? Or 2013?
Now along comes Reign of Terror—and it’s a really good record, with good songs! Indie-darling bands that ride in on the back of a gimmick tend to fade into irrelevance rather quickly. Scissor Sisters, anyone? Cansei de Ser Sexy? Bonde do Rolê? Um … Salem? (It may be too soon to tell on that one.)
But Reign of Terror harnesses the snotty, noise-fucky intensity of Treats and channels it, as if the great ’90s shoegazers Lush time-traveled to today, ate a hearty electroclash breakfast, washed it down with a frothy pint of Beach House, and sweated out a record.
“Comeback Kid” takes the band’s quadruple-kick-pedal mania and uses it to give us a lovely sort-of ballad. “Crush” takes one of Treats’ silliest tropes (the dance-brat cheerleader chanting lifted straight out of Kathleen Hanna’s toolbox) and frames it intelligently. “End of the Line” takes Mark Robinson’s late-Unrest pop sensibility and spins it into amphetamine cotton candy. This record’s great fun.
This article appears in Mar 1-7, 2012.