Whether Trash Kit’s eloquence is the result of accident or design is an ambiguity fundamental to their music’s humble charm. The London trio’s fidgety energy is belied by its rough-hewn amateurism and lyrical quaintness: less ‘Antidotes’-era Foals, more Raincoats-obsessed school band discovering funk-on-the-one syncopation for the first time in their parents’ garage. “We spent, summer, waiting, for summer, to co-ome,” sings frontwoman Rachel Aggs, her stop-start melody stumbling atop a chiming single-chord guitar riff. The tone is not one of nostalgia – surely today’s default pop-cultural affect – but rather poignant acknowledgement of the present’s continual passing.

In short, it’s a bit twee; and in that sense ‘Confidence’, the group’s second full-length, feels more suited to the late-noughties milieu from which their debut album emerged four years ago. But Trash Kit’s aura of meek simplicity rarely comes at the cost of their music’s robust momentum: horns augment the already-sprightly textures of taut rhythmic motifs with fleeting vocal harmonies providing pithy punctuation. ‘Confidence’ is bedroom dance music of rueful and equivocal romanticism.


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