No one has a subscription to masterpieces, the Wild Beasts.

The critically acclaimed Wild Beasts, whose three albums are a must on any list delicate Indi-rock opinion leaders have the guitar completely weggekuschelt and, believe it or not, still sublimeres, create more sensitive and delicate besaiteteres album than its predecessor Smother. Bad music is not to be expected from this combo, that was clear. But with Two Dancers, a masterpiece of guitar-souled feeling mediation, and with Smother, the fine intellectual Monument proud sensibility, in summary, was an expectation that is very difficult to satisfy.

A bit like The xx, and their second album, the congruence the synths is big between Smother and Present Tense, predominantly, the cut back on Two Dancers so meiterhaft presented playful guitar runs far and produced in the background, and yet it all feels a little less powerful, less intently, without the band would make concrete something wrong, except simply to have no more edges.

In the course of their four albums are the Wild Beasts of the wild softies who, knew corners and permitted indecencies, become masters of intimacy that rise not once the voice to a loud cry. The baritone Hayden Thorpe's falsetto plays around still the Tom Fleming, making this peculiar vocal high-low-ambivalence that is the Wild Beasts so peculiar. Also, A Simple Beautiful Truth, Mecca, sweetspot or Nature Boy beautiful odes to Feingeistigkeit. And yet for one of the best bands of England is Present Tense a little, not much remained under the immense expectations.

MQ