Supposedly there’s nothing more uncool than an aging raver, but Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons wear the epithet with pride. Long freed from the constraints of dance scene fashion, they now gambol in the same playful, psychedelic realm as The Flaming Lips or Super Furry Animals. Klaxons and Willy Mason are worthy fellow cosmonauts (less so Hoxton twit Ali Love), while the Brothers prove they can still poleaxe a dancefloor with a well-aimed barrage of strobe-ing electro-house. The now-traditional woozy album closer is invoked with the aid of Midlake, who swoon through a beatific number titled, appropriately, “The Pills Won’t Help You Now”. SAM RICHARDS
Supposedly there’s nothing more uncool than an aging raver, but Tom Rowlands and Ed Simons wear the epithet with pride. Long freed from the constraints of dance scene fashion, they now gambol in the same playful, psychedelic realm as The Flaming Lips or Super Furry Animals.
Klaxons and Willy Mason are worthy fellow cosmonauts (less so Hoxton twit Ali Love), while the Brothers prove they can still poleaxe a dancefloor with a well-aimed barrage of strobe-ing electro-house. The now-traditional woozy album closer is invoked with the aid of Midlake, who swoon through a beatific number titled, appropriately, “The Pills Won’t Help You Now”.
SAM RICHARDS
