New band of the week: Virgin Suicide

Meet the Danish band who sound like late-80s Brit guitar janglers given a LA pop makeover.

Main residence: Silkeborg, Denmark.

The lineup: Martin Gronne (vocals, guitar), Terker Rojle (guitar), Kristan Bonlokke (consoles), Kristan Kyvsgaard (bass), Simon thoft Jensen (drums).

The foundation: We're at the by:Larm music meeting and celebration in Oslo, Norway this week, where a great deal of the new follows up on offer are cool, advanced sorts in the seething vein of Lana Del Rey or FKA twigs, or electronic solo craftsmen, or teams in thrall to Haim and Hot Chip. So we thought we'd pick as another band of the week a five-piece from Copenhagen who look like Danish scallies, with their normcore dish cuts and the kind of anorkas football fellows wore at the tallness of Manchester. In the event that you'd have seen them staying nearby the Arndale Center in 1989, you'd have thought: "Ah, there go Factory's most recent marking."

The band - who met at school in the town of Silkeborg, in western Denmark, before they migrated to Copenhagen and framed Virgin Suid=cide in 2012 - sound very "loose". That is clearly an extremely Manchester thing, however you can likewise distinguish the splendid Scouse clatter pf Liverpudlian guitar pop everywhere on their self-titled presentation collection, which as co-delivered and blended in Los Angeles by Sune Rose Wagner of kindred Danes the Ravonettes. There is, thus, a west drift cloudiness or gauzy shine that edges these melodies around a young fellow's "inescapable mission to lose his blamelessness", as the band clarify. "The collection intends to think about our desire for adoration, sex, party, family, demise and all the passionate differences you experience while discovering your personality"- you can't envision Northside concocting that.

They've bolstered Glasvegas and the Charlatans live, and refer to as impacts everybody from David Bowie and Duran (which you can't hear by any means), to the Smiths and Dusty Springfield (which you can). This is keening 1960s pop with a percentage of the kick of the 80s independent - Martin Gronne sounds as though he composes his melodies wearing shades and a turtleneck - in spite of the fact that the generation is gleaming. The surface astonish is tricky: be careful the terrible portens in the midst of the daylight. Those plummeting basslines offer hints of something mischievous along these lines coming.

Keep in mind the band's name. Self-can-cellation is something of a theme - they sing about it on There is a Glace Over My Eyes - yet so is passing all in all: their 2012 introduction single was called Killing Everyone You Know. Gronne's Creamy tones, regardless of the somewhat anduished ring - envision a boyband Brett Anderson - mean you can value the music for its windy agreeableness, or you can burrow around to find what lies underneath. What did they say before in regards to their "desire for affection, sex, gathering, family and demise"? Their desire for it? That is dull. Also, this is dreampop that may give you bad dreams.

[Source: The Guardian]