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A series in Sunday Calendar about what Times writers & contributors are listening to right now...

London-based Veronica Falls don’t dilly-dally. The music is lean, and the lyrics curt. “The Box,” for instance, sounds as if it was written for sharing a malt at the soda-fountain. Yet singer Roxanne Clifford will make her company think twice. “I know you’re old,” she sings, “but you’re a hand to hold,” and then she gets back to the song’s two-minute burst of shimmying grooves and effervescent guitars.

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This isn’t an album of young love gone bust so much as it is one of young love gone tragic. On the opening verse of “Found Love in a Graveyard,” the hazy-voiced sweetness of Clifford sounds as if it’s locked in a dead-eyed stare. Patrick Doyle doesn’t harmonize as much as hover, and every brush of the guitar is spotless-clean, even as the minimal ol’-fashioned pop jangle builds to a trot.

The call-and-response “Misery” is a love-letter to sulking, and perhaps the album’s most glistening rocker until it dissolves into a spooky religious hymn. A dark undercurrent worms through “Bad Felling,” but this short summation shouldn’t lead anyone to believe this is a downer of a record. “Bad Feeling” is just one of many songs that’s an adrenaline rush, with a constantly flexing riff, a lead guitar that’s full of twilight shading and harmonies to swoon over.

Veronica Falls
Self-titled
Slumberland Records

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--Todd Martens

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