untitled (halo)
untitled (halo)
DIRTY HIT
Thirteen years ago, The 1975 put out an overly polished self-titled debut record on the label Dirty Hit. Last week, LA’s untitled (halo) also put out an overly polished self-titled debut record on Dirty Hit. The more things change, the more they stay the same, I guess. Though they sound nothing alike, untitled (halo) and The 1975 share quite a lot in common in the sense that they’re both deeply indebted to the sounds and aesthetics in vogue upon their releases. For The 1975, that meant Obama-era earnestness, pop-punk swagger, and the crystalline sheen of synth-pop. For untitled (halo), that means the misty distortion of cloud-rock: distant vocals, trip-hop beats, and ultraprocessed guitars. Both records flaunt their respective band’s obnoxious names. They both have songs called “Sex.”
But The 1975’s debut benefited from the perpetually unselfconscious musings of one Matty Healy. The 1975 forced its way above its alt-pop peers through its band leader’s sheer audaciousness. untitled (halo) is an extremely stylish backdrop with no magnetic centerpiece. It’s a fascinating—and even useful—snapshot of indie rock’s current preoccupations. The signposts are all there: open chords that echo out into negative space, disaffected vocals, and sleek, distorted guitars that never quite screech enough to really grind your teeth. It’s all cool, no charisma.
The record does have enough texture to keep things from drifting off too far. Opener “Aimee Lou Wood Freestyle” courses with brazen guitars while trap hi-hats flutter along. The drum sample and strobing guitar on “Sex” are bass-boosted loud enough to wake you up from the lukewarm “Default Factory Settings.” They play around a bit with vocals: a flicker of Auto-Tune in Ariana Mamnoon’s vocals on “Industry Talk,” a bit of screamo in the distance on “How to Make Your Love (Stay).” The way untitled (halo) add dashes of hip-hop and digital ephemera to their spacey arrangements recalls the work of They Are Gutting a Body of Water’s mixtapes, but TAGABOW aren’t afraid to go too far, stretching their sound on their latest mixtape to accommodate RXKNephew and Greg Mendez alike. untitled (halo) feels trapped in the middle, gesturing toward possible new avenues without breaking their icy facade.
The band does show serious promise on “Easy Rider.” It’s the most complete song here, and its brilliantly simple hook goes farther than any of their meandering guitar lines. As the band shouts “I adore you” in unison, the album’s amorphousness finally settles into something tangible. It’s the kind of straightforward songwriting that could set them apart on a sophomore release, with or without the sentence-length title.
