Ritual

White Lies have been compared to Interpol, The Killers and, of course, Joy Division. The trouble is that they never go beyond their progenitors. To be fair, they make a half decent noise. It’s just very hard to get very exited about. We’ve heard it all before, we’ll hear it all again. They wear their influences on their sleeve and, while initially they wear them well, they eventually wear them to death and the lining begins to tear.
The album explodes ‘Is Love’, an anthemtic opener, and you have a feeling that maybe there’s something good on the way – but before long the lack of diversity becomes a problem. Pounding beats, glimmering synths, twanging guitars and morose vocals abound. Every note is meticulously calculated to appease the arena-frequenting masses but, for me, the lyrics lack any poetry, any sense of self, anything original. The legendary Alan Moulder, best known for twiddling the knobs for Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails produces – but even he can’t save the project from being essentially formulaic.