A Rush Of Endorphins: Alvvays, Live in London

11 September 2017, 09:56 | Written by

(Live)

(Alvvays)

For any hip new band (un)fortunate to find themselves entangled in the fickle and unforgiving hype machine of the modern music industry, the pressure to nail The Dreaded Second Album must rival the intensity of a Hans Zimmer score. It's a sad fact of life that for every act that successfully woos the critics with what our American cousins insist on calling a "sophomore release", there's several dozen destined to go down in history as a mere flash in the pan.

Thankfully, Torontonian five-piece Alvvays have more than risen to the challenge with their superb new LP, Antisocialites, building upon the jangly yet melancholic foundations of their eponymous debut to produce one of the most accomplished collections of indie-pop anthems of the decade so far. Showcasing the new album at KOKO tonight, what's striking is the extent to which the melodies of a record only just released have already driven themselves deep in the audience's collective psyche, resulting in that rarest of things - an album release show that holds our attention from start to finish.

Once again centered around Molly Rankin, scion of a Celtic folk dynasty, and her keyboard-playing neighbour Kerri MacLellan, Antisocialites doesn't try to reinvent the wheel - the band's sound is still as evocative of Teenage Fanclub, Belle & Sebastian and Camera Obscura as it ever was. What it does do however is reinforce Alvvays' reputation as masters of the wistful dream-pop chorus, underpinned by impeccable hooks, hand-on-heart lyrics with a welcome disdain for the ironic, and an inherently nostalgic air.

That's not to say they've not made a tweak or two to their formula since 2014. For those who found the debut too singularly paced, the new material is a little more wide-ranging in its influences - the hazy majesty of "Dreams Tonight" could be mistaken for a lost Beach House single, whilst the rattling indie-rock bounce of "Your Type" strikes a more Cure-ish note. Parts of "Plimsoll Punks" sound like the Ramones being cuddled into submission by a Care Bear; the a capella refrain of minimalist synth ballad "Forget About Life" seems tailor-made for lighter-waving encores. None of it veers wildly from their established aesthetic (they've happily resisted the urge to embrace, say, cod-reggae, unlike some Canadian acts one might care to mention), but it nonetheless feels like the work of a band who've grown in confidence and skill.

The same applies to their live performance. Alvvays will never be the most dynamic band in the world, but they're far more polished and sure of themselves than two years ago - and as their music is a rush of endorphins rather than adrenaline, that low-key stage presence often works in their favour. Like all the best indie-pop icons, Molly Rankin isn't the most technically accomplished vocalist, yet that's an integral part of their charm - there's a certain high note towards the end of set closer "Party Police" that wouldn't pass muster at La Scala, yet fits the song's plaintive character exquisitely.

If there's a single moment that crystallises where Alvvays are as a band right now, it's a thousand people singing in unison to the chorus of "Archie, Marry Me" as Molly and Kerri grin broadly at each other. They've aced Album 2, their critical star is ever-rising - and for a bunch of anti-socialites, they sure have a lot of fans.