No frills duo The Gay Blades may be arriving on these shores with force after picking up high plaudits from our American counterparts, but this album does little to warrant such attention. Though their name reeks of danger and excitement, the New York two’s music is frustratingly safe; bouncing between sounding like a pre-politicised Green Day with a unhealthy country-leaning – and a less catchy, charisma free – whinier Jet. Matters are not helped by their fondness for whimpering emotionally stained vocals; the miserable etched faux crooning of ‘Dog Day Afternoon’ is enough to cheer those with even the happiest of dispositions into self-carvery. Listening to this has done little but convince us that The Gay Blades are America’s answer to The Fratelli’s.

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