Back in July Hot Club jokingly told Gigwise that theyâ€™d monikered their debut album â€˜Drop It Till It Popsâ€™ as a prediction of its failure and their resulting disposal from Moshi Moshi - well boys donâ€™t give up the day jobs just yet. For within its thirteen songs and scarcely thirty one minutes theyâ€™ve managed to craft an album of mini gems that barely leaves us time to breath as it sashays between the obscure time signatures weâ€™ve already chronicled their love of, brilliantly tongue in cheek yet ever intelligent lyrics, rudimentary beat boxing and the kind of song titles thatâ€™ll have Brendon Urie wetting his pants over in admiration.
In the hands of the Hot Club trio the triumbrant of guitar, bass and drums is an intricately weaving machine, each arm plays in between and off each other. Riffs twist on a six pence round corners of funk baseline and staccato drums march through obscure beat patterns giving the music more turns than the Crystal Maze. The vocals alternate between northern uproar shouts and three part harmonies that tell tales of quirky observation. Its all crammed in thick and fast save for a couple of moments for quiet contemplation and most of the time its all pretty damn brilliant.
Thereâ€™s the Hot Club most people will know on effervescent two minute blasts such as opener â€˜Shipwreckedâ€™, â€˜Names And Names And Namesâ€™ and â€˜Yes/No/Goodbye!â€™ all espousing the intertwining aesthetic we alluded too earlier and laced with yelps of whooping joy. The superbly titled â€˜Your Face Looks All Wrongâ€™ takes the blueprint and slows it down to a contemplative refrain that belies the slapstick lyrics as does â€˜Hello, I Wrote A Song For You Called â€œWelcome To The Jungleâ€â€™ which most resembles one of the bands favourite reference points Storm & Stress with its plait atmospherics.
â€˜Bonded By Blood (A Song For Two Brothers)â€™ gives us, save for a hidden track, the only taste of possibly the most talked about aspect of the bands live shows. Barbershop harmonies playfully sit alongside tongue in cheek beat boxing in a moment of interlude between the frenetic opusâ€™ surrounding.
â€˜Drop It Till It Popsâ€™ is an album destined for cult status. Its intricacies may prevent it from becoming a mainstream hit but there is no doubt that in it points to ever bigger and brighter things. It may repeat on itself a couple of times but weâ€™ll let them off that little niggle for the sheer exuberance with which it has been put together. As debut albums go you canâ€™t get much better - a mini masterpiece and a manifesto for future takeover.