Yay! Sleigh Bells are not another BK Psychedelic Trip

I'm gonna go ahead and hop on the Sleigh Bells bandwagon. Whatever this is, it seems to be worth talking about.

And why are they worth talking about? Because they don't sound like the bands people are talking about. No Brian Wilson-approved vocals, no borrowed beach nostalgia... it looks like new psychedelia's potsmoke dreams have not completely eliminated a visceral need to confront the beat head on. That's exactly what we're getting from Alexis Krauss.

In the back of my head, I keep thinking this band has one of those sounds that will cause us to look back and think... 2010... that was when we listened to Sleigh Bells! Like the way we remember Andrew W.K. or Candlebox (ok, no one remembers Candlebox) They share something in common with the XX... in that, they have a sound, and they do it and they do it and they do it again... I don't remember the titles, but I do remember that jackhammer guitar hitting me over the head. The song titles (and for that matter the lyrics) being almost completely inter-changeable. But hey, what's wrong with that right? Who cares when you have a song that endlessly repeats the title Terry Riley-style.

(Got my A Machines on the Table / Got my B Machines on the Floor... get it yet????) Ms. Krauss is well aware of where the band's talent lies, by being well aware of where it doesn't. In interviews she's confessed to not being a particularly verbose lyricist...

These riffs are the envy of any would-be banger. (Why Crown on the Ground hasn't been used on any mixtape yet is beyond me.) And what about that song, Rill Rill??? I bet you heard Infinity Guitars and thought you totally got it.. then heard Rill Rill and you were like... oh, that's that band?? This isn't bad! Likewise, maybe you hate MIA and are completely over IT. Well, she co-produced their debut Treats . (If only MIA would stick to doing more things like this.)

So thank you Sleigh Bells! For proving that once again, Brooklyn has figured out how to work its way out of a hole of psychedelic mopiness and allowed space for the loud and the direct into its hipster heart.