Because we’re bunch of miserable bastards who spend most of our time listening to Tokyo Doom Jazz and shouting at people, it’s pretty rare that a musical event causes any stirring in our jaded muso loins here at DT towers, but even we were heartened this morning as we learnt that our very favourite band ever to play in London’s tiny Crobar are set to get it on again. Here’s the press release that appeared on DFA’s site:

Jesse and I have decided that what we can do together should not be denied.
Together again, as was always the intention, as a collaboration.
The collision of two different worlds.
As this all takes shape, we will reveal it to you.
All of it happening, as it always has, in our own way.
Thank you all for sharing in our excitement!

Yes.
SEBASTIEN

they love each other really...

So, there you have it, theelephant-faced synth-shout duo are back, hopefully in an attempt to teach Hackney/Village hipsters that not all two piece bands have to sound like Gary Newman….

Here’s to sexy results.

With the return of Crystal Castles and their second self-titled album Ethan Kath and Alice Glass are heralding the dawn of a new type of musician by a return to the arrogance of the classic rock-stars.

Now I know by labelling them rock-stars people will probably want to throw bricks or synthesisers at me, but really what else are they? They play electro, oh right sorry. Wait, but doesn’t Glass scream a lot? So screamo it is then. Actually aren’t some of the songs fairly poppy in temperament? You see now we’re stuck. Call them noise, call them pop, call them what you like – Kath will have your head for it.

Both Ethan Kath and Alice Glass look like unsuspecting rock-stars with angular self-cut black hair and leather jackets. They look a little like the scene kids everyone tries to avoid to be honest. Just from a photo you can tell they are the awkward type and this has been confirmed by practically every interview they have ever given. Clearly they are going down the “we don’t give a shit about the fame and money” route. Classic. Apparently Ethan is lovely when discussing anything but his music. They are rock-stars and you know it.

Two albums in two years isn’t bad by any means either. They can be as tragic as they like if they have the music to back it up and here are two individuals who truly are masters at what they do. Kath programmes all his own equipment, from keyboards to phones and probably some old Nintendo’s too. Glass on the other hand is the mad front-woman who is more than likely on drugs while throwing her self around the stage. Never before have game noises made you want to dance like an epileptic on pills.

It is this pixelated noise quality that polarises people between love and hate for Crystal Castles. I can understand how and why people would dislike them; in-fact it seems like the easier option, but nobody else has or is currently doing anything similar to them, and that in itself is an achievement. They are the 21^st centuries answer to rock-stars. They are awkward, angry, different, and excessive. No longer are the cocaine addled sex lives of Motley Crue interesting to us, but the pill fuelled nightmares of hooded creeps.

These two excruciating individuals have the mentality of a gang and when you hear the music you do imagine them exactly as they are. If others jump on the electric bandwagon I fear the music will be passionless. Crystal Castles are the only viable future for this scene and they will probably relish that.

HMV’s Next Big Thing initiative is crawling out across the capital over the next two weeks and offers a pretty tasty deal for fans, with three bands a night for a tenner, leading up to a Valentine’s day climax at The Borderline and featuring up-and-comers like Paloma Faith, Wave Pictures and Band of Skulls. For once, we left our studs and leather in The Crobar next door and braved the non-dingy dungeon to check out Electro’s latest great white hopes Chew Lips.

As mentioned, these bills are all about diversity, and judging by the frighteningly uncool crowd it’s attracting all comers, as we jostle through an alarming mixture of Hip Vs Slip, A Bathing Ape meets Slightly Overweight punters and get the drinks in as openers Expatriates take the stage.

Now, wearing your influences on your sleeve is all fine and well -hey, look at Rush – but Expatriates have gone that step too far and decided to endlessly replay songs from U2’s No Line on the Horizon album. They do at least attempt to mix things up with some oddly Hawkwindesque keyboards hoving into view between the tragically hip (in 1992) haircuts, but there’s no denying The Edge is entirely responsible for these chaps. The fact that they segue pitch-perfectly into the between set tape of Chris Cornell tells you all you’ll ever need to know about them.

Charli XCX

Next up it’s a change of pace as Lady GaGa’s greatest fan takes the stage, and yep, it’s just as bad as it sounds. Charli XCX specialises in big-eyed jerky dancing and shock-haired sub Gaga theatrics with ¼ Peaches attitude thinly spread on top. Her first track suffers from a technical hitch leaving her looking lost on stage and revealing a total lack of star wattage as she scampers back to the wings for another ten minutes.
“She wasn’t that good…and I didn’t like the way her face looked” remarks one astute gig-goer behind me, as Charli hit’s the stage again and attempts desperately to make you love her. The jerky dance moves conjure up terrifying images of Brixton bedroom practice sessions and she raises a surprisingly upbeat reaction from the crowd although there are plenty of questions regarding just how ‘live’ the vocals are. Hideous image aside, CXCX has some undeniably strong tunes and could go far if she chooses to focus on those rather than the cheap Barbie-face bra bearing theatrics.

And so to headliners Chew Lips. Thanks to appearances at the BBC electric proms and no little help from singer Tig’s gorgeous looks, CL are definitely rising stars, peddling a Prince-influenced electro pop that needs to iron out the uneven tempo changes a little but is definitely something to keep an eye on. Their insanely 80’s Kim Wilde-esque workouts wouldn’t look out of place over a Karate Kid training montage, with some very slick songwriting with inbuilt danceability crashing against an affable glittery image that could do with an overhaul in favour of minimalist iconic bastardry, they nevertheless know how to get a crowd dancing in a way pop hasn’t truly managed since 1985. Oddly enough, this is one group that needs to avoid advancing, as slightly more complex newer numbers slow things down – If they can just stick with the upbeat bass pop workouts and arena epicry they can’t go wrong.

Daito Manabe must have some understanding friends. How else would he be able to convince them to attach electrodes to their faces that make them twitch along to his music?

Strangely hypnotic. I’d like to see some of today’s mope-pop blandlords attached to this kind of device. With a much higher voltage…

The name conjures up images of drippy hippy nu-folk, but a quick look behind the white facepaint and hoody image reveals an uber-producer collective happily flashing a darker electro edge than it’s participants previous involvement with Madonna and Britney ever hinted at.

The tracks slip and slide between classic and contemporary grooves – think John Lennon writing for Fujiya and Miyagi – resulting in an electrofolk clash that will be filling Shoreditch dancefloors for weeks to come. There’s clubland buried here too, weaving through the mellow lysergia of ‘Faker’, before making a break for freedom with the massive trance of ‘In Search Of’.

Throughout, core members Pontus Winnberg and Christian Carlsson – better known as Bloodshy & Avant – keep one eye on the stop start choruses that won them a Grammy for Toxic, throwing in throbbing floor fillers like ‘A Horse is Not a Home’ at will, while Andrew Wyatt – yes, J-Lo’s producer – acts as nominal frontman, providing the trippy ‘Burial’ with some softly spoken menace.

A pitch perfect break from the day job, this will be deservedly massive for 15 minutes.