Wolf Parade, Arcade Fire, now Clap Your Hands - there's not a lot of new bands making propulsive, pretty clippyclop indie, but some of the old guard's still kicking.
This's probably CYHSY's best front-to-back album, even if it lacks some of the bracing quirks of their early stuff (those opening tracks!). And Alec's nasal whine is still Corgan-tier alienating, but this is a shimmering, pretty, forward-tilted, cloud-breaking little slice of the last generation, full of overblown touches and hooky flourishes. This's the kind of quietly adventurous stuff we got spoiled on in the 00's, be thankful for these vestiges 4/5
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