Sleigh Bells – Treats

Sleigh Bells - Treats

In science, there is what’s known as the “Star Trek effect”, when the cultural impact of sci-fi is such that it actually influences the development of technology and ends up existing in the real world – from the Clarke Orbit, the geostationary positioning of satellites first theorised by the 2001: a Space Odyssey author, to apparently nearly every aspect of Minority Report and sadly not the hoverboards from Back to the Future Part II. In musical terms, the film This Is Spinal Tap has enjoyed a similar impact – in fact, last year’s genuine documentary Anvil: The Story of Anvil rode uncomfortably close. And somehow, despite all the hyperbole that should stand as a warning, the first image you get as you slap on Sleigh Bells’ monstrous debut is of a mixing desk being set to 11 – 12, at a push. Loud just got louder. That doesn’t mean to say this ear-bashing is devoid of musical value – the weird thing is how sort of, well, pretty Treats sounds. Think a Lightening Bold album reborn as a slick Sugababes singles collection. Raw noise is bent into balloon animals.

Opening aural-slap ‘Tell ‘Em’ is like a contagious strand of tinnitus – it could drown out a stadium of vuvuzelas and yet it’s still as catchy as hell. As a statement of intent, it’s spot on, marrying the sugar-coated vocals of Alexis Krauss with the pounding racket produced by Derek E Miller as he proceeds to annihilate the shit out of a room full of instruments and recording equipment.

The biggest tune, ‘Rill Rill’, is actually one of the most subdued (although by this stage, your peripheral hearing might just have packed in) and for pop appeal holds its own against any chart entry you want to throw at it. The album might have enough else to offer not to have to hang on it, but it somehow packs a punch that not even its noisy neighbours can rival. And if that sucked you in, or you thought it was safe to turn your stereo back up, ‘Crown on the Ground’ will knock you senseless, while the title track and blazing finale builds a nursery rhyme out of the rubble of Crystal Castles at their most obnoxious.

What on paper sounds like exactly the sort of thing the CIA would be snapping up a batch load of to try out on suspected terrorists too hardy to be cracked by waterboarding is actually a record that you want to play on repeat. Because – and the folks next door might argue with this one – the biggest grumble is not the volume but how short it is. But that first listen will list amongst the most exhilarating half-hours you’ll have spent this year.

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