Holy Fuck

Holy Fuck’s second album yawns to life with the uncharacteristically ambient ‘1MD’ – a track that awakens with all the patience of fellow expletives Fuck Buttons.

Their most atmospheric song yet then makes way for their funkiest as ‘Red Light’ bounces on a Rapture-esque bass brag.

And from then on the groove never leaves ‘Latin’, whether overtly throbbing to the classic piano of ‘Latin America’

or subtly morphing biscuit-tin bossanova drum raps into dramatic, military snare rolls throughout the filmic, standout ‘Stay Lit’.

At rare intervals (and throughout the skyward, krauty blemish ‘Silva & Grimes’) things feel a little less encapsulating, but as with any post-rock, Holy

completely instrumental record, that’s almost to be expected.

What makes ‘Latin’ such a clever and well-executed success is its undeniably taut, precise energy.

Where once it was wild and unpredictable, but now seems toned down to such a level that it feels like she has recently graduated from the school for pop sirens – it’s both clichéd and tame.

Flanked by a DJ on one side and a keytar player on the other it feels like she is going through the motions, rolling out one traditional move after another; even the RnB staple of perching on a stool for a song is not off-limits.

The once credible face of hipster pop is reaching out for the mainstream.

It’s a typical Courtney Love that totters the line of spoilt brat rock star and the embodiment of obnoxious, deluded despair, I guess, but as tragic as the woman on stage is, playing in her underwear for attention and talking about her tits, the real shame is that all of the inter-song bravado detracts from her earliest and best work, which still sounds pretty gnarly when the band finally get around to playing it

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