The xx play free Criminal Records in-store tonight
Tuesday, November 17th, 2009Don’t fret if you’re one of the unlucky ones who didn’t act fast enough to get a ticket for the XX show tonight at 529. The group is playing a free in-store show at Criminal Records in L5P tonight (Tues., Nov. 17) at 8 p.m.
With their self-titled debut, Londoners The xx drift through a mire of boy-girl, twentysomething sexual and emotional ruminations via sparse atmospheres and occasionally evolved pop melodies that hide mostly in the shadows. But when it comes to the surface in “VCR,” “Crystalised” and “Basic Space,” their simple, economical songwriting soars far beyond their years.
Show up early as it will most likely be huge.
Criminal Records is located at 1154-A Euclid Ave. 404-215-9511.









With their self-titled debut, Londoners, The xx drift through a mire of boy-girl, twentysomething sexual and emotional ruminations via sparse atmospheres and occasionally evolved pop melodies that hide mostly in the shadows. But when it comes to the surface in “VCR,” “Crystalised” and “Basic Space,” their simple, economical songwriting soars far beyond their years. Vocalist Jamie Smith coos her regrets, apologies and desires with spaciousness and allure, leaving plenty of room to roam in every song. Romy Croft delivers deep, ethereal guitar lines that fit perfectly, but he has the voice of a breathy gorilla with a mouthful of marbles and he ruins the moment every time he emotes. It’s not enough to kill the record, but in an otherwise perfectly sensual balance he’s hard on the ears. (Young Turks) 4 stars out of 5






The world of indie music is fraught with a serious and ongoing identity crisis: micro-trends come and go, sometimes in the span of months. Truthfully, it’s a bit of a bummer. Who can keep up? Really, who wants to? And is it any wonder, then, that in the face of this interminable whirlwind more and more groups are embracing nostalgia as a musical reference point in itself?





The phone call interrupts dinner around 6 p.m. on a Thursday. It’s my girlfriend’s birthday and our meals have just been served up at her favorite Italian restaurant. Normally, I wouldn’t answer at a time like this, not even for my own mother. But the picture of B Jay pops up on my phone’s screen, his arms outstretched like Mr. Bill when he’s about to get squashed. I have to answer.
