Actually La Roux is two people but the man La Roux doesn’t appear in any photos or videos so fuck him. We don’t know who does what, but musically La Roux’s roots are worn on their sleeves. We’re talking vintage Vince Clarke, basically. In a very good way. What sets it apart (and this album really doesn’t sound like anyone else living or dead) is Elly Jackson’s voice. We have it on good authority (i.e. she told us) it comes from growing up listening to Joni Mitchell. But that influence filtered through her obsession with the dramatic end of 80s synth pop becomes a heartfelt and extraordinary wail, juxtaposing the breezy programmed melodies with deliciously self-indulgent misery. It’s an album that works, no matter what mood you’re in.
There’s not a duff track on it either. Our favourites (today) are current single Bulletproof, although it’s so ear-wormy - and we play it about 50 times a day - we may well end up hating it by the end of the month, and the only slowy, Cover My Eyes which makes us a bit weepy and that. But they’re all amazing. Ay-may-zing.
On a scale of one to ten, with Kate Nash being one and Ladyhawke being ten, La Roux’s debut album is a 9.5, and we’re getting fonder by the second.




COMMENTS (1)
Another 'got dressed in the dark playing around in a box of Goldfrapp reject outfits' Hoxtonite Brit-school wannabe with about as much musical soul as the Cheeky Girls.