Little Joy
Those pining for The Strokes to return may have to sit tight. Whilst Albert Hammond Jnr is two solo albums in, Julian Casablancas is opening restaurants. Fab Moretti had to fill the time somehow and having randomly met Rodrigo Amarante at a Portuguese music festival saw the chance for a departure. Binki Shapiro was later introduced to the pair through mutual acquaintances and became the catalyst. Late-night sessions led to demoed tracks, Little Joy were formed and their eponymously titled debut album is the result.
Such haste is clear yet whilst it should sound rushed, the songs’ beauty lies in their minimalism. 'The Next Time Around' features little more than a galloping drum beat and quaint acoustic guitar yet it is Amarante’s voice that carries the song. He could be singing about the recession, or global warming or taking your own mother out for dinner and it would still sound as blissfully soothing. Then we are introduced to the band’s wildcard, namely Binki Shapiro, who adds a sprinkling of glamour with her Portuguese intones.
Throw in a few handclaps and you could easily imagine 'Brand New Start' serenading couples into slow dancing. The track dutifully impresses from a simple chorus centred around the refrain, ‘Aint no lover like the one I got’; proving that less can mean more. Without sounding limp and barely sounding twee, there is a laidback drowsiness already in place and if merely for variation, 'No One’s Better Sake' sounds strangely reggae with a smattering of ska guitar and hazy organ.
Finally Shapiro gets her own track to shine in 'Unattainable' and provides adequate reason to be considered the Nico to Little Joy’s Velvet Underground. If only for two minutes her angelic voice glides on ice; despite the song’s subject matter regarding rejection and waiting for a lover, any male with a pulse would struggle to resist her. Despite the heart-warming acoustics and consoling voices there lies a foreboding edge to the album. Accompanied by a chilling melody and strangely sinister backing vocals, With Strangers finds Amarante facing his demons and lamenting his mistakes.
By this point the album needs an injection of vigour which results in an electric guitar pulsating throughout 'Keep Me In Mind'. In truth it is the only song of the album where you can hear a possible influence from Moretti’s other vocation, with Amarante’s straining voice now taking on a soulfulness akin to Casablancas‘. The New York fascination carries on into 'How To Hang A Warhol', which also claims the sort of jokingly joyous acoustics that brought Noah and The Whale to fame. Melancholy now comes into play and for anyone caught staring across the dance floor 'Don’t Watch Me Dancing' will bring an embarrassing understanding. The song’s thoughtful appeal and haunting finale would form a meritable conclusion to the album itself. Instead that privilege falls to Evaporar and apart from Amarante’s alluring Portuguese vocals the track gives the album a sorry, limp finale.