Remember these two names, firstly, Madeline Follin, second, Brian Oblivion. These are the sole members of a shy NY group called Cults, a group with a “cult” following sure to grow into a full-fledged mania of devout hipsters in no time. You can hardly throw a discarded walkman into the music world without hitting some new band who are adorably capable of recreating sensory 60’s euphoria. Among them are notables such as She & Him, Best Coast and The Raveonettes.
This is a sound well suited for two-piece bands like Cults or Raveonettes, the hush hush voices speaking profound wisdoms worded as observations vocalized by children. Look closer, you might call it “twee,” which does more than hint at sugar overdose, but this is so much more than “cute.” This isn’t your little sister’s music, unless your little sister is a 45 year old vampire masquerading as an innocent child.
Cults’ debut, a bewitching self-titled window into the hearts of two thoughtful college kids, is almost too breezy for its own good. The only problem I see with this album is its repetitive nature, one that carries with it a very specific and very gentle sound. This statement also works in favor of the album, as it blends like a dream from track one to eleven. The first two songs “Abducted” and “Go Outside” hit hard, though the third is the true champion due to its tranquil familiarity. “You Know What I Mean,” is undoubtedly a best of 2011 on which Follin channels early Diana Ross with her backer, the aptly-named Brian Oblivion, leading us subconsciously in and out of darkness via guitar.
The loudest song on Cults would easily be the quietest on another artist’s record, the use of chords is not extensive, the band members hate touring… These are hardly cons worth listing. The pros? The lyrics are above average and the message is hardly antisocial, it’s actually uplifting sans preachiness. Cults is sweet without worries of impending toothaches, a perfect soundtrack for your summer days.