If you were fortunate enough to hear last year’s Tesla Boy EP it most likely sound-tracked many euphoric days and nights. Whilst it may not have received the exposure it truly deserved, those fortunate enough to pick up a copy had their life marinated in blissful melody before being helplessly-hurled in to the flames of pop.
This Russian three-piece are unashamedly influenced by Western culture, but carry none of its unnecessary baggage to weigh them down. Their residence in Moscow allows them to elude the marketing machine’s rusty blades – terms like branding, demographic and penetration have not been drummed into them. These extraordinarily handsome boys are focused on the music alone. And boy does it show.
Their osmosis of the 80′s filtered through the Iron Curtain has enabled them to distil left-field elements such as Bowie and The Smiths with the lighter side of the decade from artists like Duran Duran and A-Ha. Whilst on paper this might all sound like a ghastly mess, in practice it makes them the finest pop group in the world today.
With 2009 done and dusted the pressure was on for a debut album that delivered on their immeasurable potential. Thankfully with Modern Thrills the burden of expectation has not caused them to falter; instead they have taken the knowledge acquired from writing their big tunes and used them to write even bigger ones. ‘Synthetic Prince’ hits like a shot of adrenaline, sending endorphins in every direction – its sassy and sexy verses lay the groundwork for the big-beat fist-pumping choruses with that trademark Tesla sound.
Yet alongside their high energy material is a new breed of song – slightly darker edged, less obvious than before and littered with hidden depths, nuances and subtleties. Musical time-bombs that often explode days after hearing a track to reveal complex melodies-within-melodies. ‘Rebecca’ and ‘Speed Of Light’ are without question the most emotive songs they have ever written; sound-tracking a thousand movies in your minds eye as the rain pours down on neon lit streets.
With this phase of their global invasion master-plan perfectly executed, it would seem inevitable that a Europe spoon-fed a diet of Saturday evening karaoke labelled as pop music will crumble before the might of Tesla Boy. It really doesn’t get much more exciting than this.