Everything about this young English quartet is stylized and calibrated to within an inch of its life, especially its romantic attachment to the '80s culture of minimal electro/goth pop. At times, it's a little unnerving—particularly for anyone who lived through it the first time—but that's kind of the point. All in their early twenties, these folks didn't live through it, making drawing upon Soft Cell and Young Marble Giants no different than mining Nick Drake or 13th Floor Elevators or, heck, Robert Johnson. In this light, xx is a total triumph, combining these influences with a touch of hip hop production savvy and low-end to create a unified album that never once breaks its established mood. Austere, cold and clipped, but filled with raw, relatable late-teen confusion and emotion, The xx work because they use only the fewest elements possible to establish each scene. This gives ample space for the dry, up-closeness of Romy Croft and Oliver Sims' vocals to take effect. The result ends up being a lot closer to R&B than anything else—dark, even detached, but still loaded with sex and tension.