THE HORRORS - Skying

The fact that I'm even discussing a record by The Horrors in 2011, never mind endorsing it heavily, is kind of remarkable. The band that arrived on the NME's underground star-making scene back around 2006 was so noxiously contrived and tepidly edgy, one's only comfort in having to see their faces was that all things (especially of that ilk) must pass.

But after an EP and a 2007 LP, Strange House, these five kids pretending to be The Ramones dressed as extras from the Addams Family did something even more grating and naive: they reinvented themselves and released another record. And of course, they now ditched the outfits and turned predictably serious. Groan.

That they had so easily bailed on their thin, joyless gimmick after one cycle of releases felt like the final confirmation of The Horrors' artistic bankruptcy. As such, 2009's Primary Colours was an album I had no intention of even listening to—it was only after repeated pleas from friends (and the knowledge that Portishead's awesome sonic architect, Geoff Barrow, produced it) that I relented.

As it turned out, though, that record was quite the lesson in humility for me. Not only did it sound like some lost album of My Bloody Valentine jamming with Ian Curtis, it was really, really good. So it is that Skying miraculously arrives with not even a whiff of the once-so-wretched stink that accompanied anything with the name "The Horrors".

If the band needed to nail this record to prove that their unbelievable turnaround on Primary Colours was no fluke (and they did), then consider Skying mission accomplished. This record is easily as broad and grand in its gestures, but is also considerably more romantic and warm. Where Primary Colours used in-the-red layering and angry, tense vocals to build a bridge from their goth garage origins to a new place, Skying now leaves behind nary a trace of bitter tension in the band's sound. Seeing as that seething angst was actually a big part of what made Primary Colours such a great listen, this isn't as safe a gamble as it might sound. But once again, the band proves they are not to be underestimated. Skying is more mature, sure, but it's also a better album—surprisingly eloquent in its textures, it's unified and patient without ever be dull or rote.

Certainly, detractors of the band will still find fuel for their distaste here—at every stage of their young career, The Horrors have borrowed (ie. stolen) liberally from their predecessors, and Skying is no exception. But for the first time, the question surrounding these guys has shifted from "When will they pack it in?" to "I wonder what their next record will sound like?" It's a shift in our expectations that, mistakes and all, these guys have worked hard to earn.