Released: 2009
There’s an intangible element – actually no, it’s the intangible element to music – that enables it to sound like one thing and mean another, a disguise, a misdirection. One second it leaves/leads you down a familiar path, with sensations that are known, then the next minute you’ve dislocated the noise from the endorphins, the sine waves just water, a drowning or a baptism. Music is in that respect, as fickle and desperate and confused as all of us.
Exhibit #4598 of this effect was the self titled debut album by the xx, a quartet who would soon after it’s release turn trio from South London. As deceptions went, it was almost without equal that that year; ostensibly minimalist indie rock, the space the band’s output used allowed the listener to project into a void, one filled with unrequited everything, from empty/full beds to lonely bus stops to silent discos amongst the noise.
Infinity was the moment one thing became another. On it just a guitar became a symphony, singers Romy Madley and Oliver Sim traded at conversation level a push-pull, dipped in obsession exercise in desire and fear, a game wrapped inside a place at the end of every line. In the process they created a lit on fire sequel to Chris Isaak’s Wicked Game, a similarly dark place lit up by sounds that were in your head, but not ever in your ears.
The Voice Of Unreason 