Labels: Atomic Beat Records
Review by: Andy Malcolm
It’s a split of two ‘alves, Saint.
The Sugarplums sound like the kind of under produced indie pop that fails to grab my attention. It’s all cardigan wearing softness. Now, of course being an emo bastard I have my own cardigan and am completely partial to an enjoyable bout of softness, but I also don’t mind having a numbskull hardcore band bash my head in. These guys sound like they would run away screaming from the Ergs! fer chrissakes. I don’t have much reference for such lily livered indie pop, I only ever compare this stuff to something Fred Thomas made. Anyway, this is thin, the vocals are mumbled and it’s the kind of indie pop that indie pop gets a bit embarrassed by, you’d have trouble shambling about a bit to this. I suppose it’s just about suitable for stealing a glance at a cute girl across the coffee shop from behind your fancy literature to when she’s not looking, but that’s pretty much it.
However, the Garlands are the kind of indie pop that I will bounce a round the room to in a giddy haze. It’s like Sally Shapiro or Cloetta Paris crossed with Tiger Trap. Get the fuck in! Actually I discovered later that Roger Gunnarsson is in this band and he writes for Sally Shapiro and Cloetta Paris, so I am not sure what to make of my observation there, am I smart or merely lucky? The music has a lovely burst of energy and is keyed by Christin’s delightful vocals. It lurches around like a puppy with a particularly bad case of ADHD, and it doesn’t ever let up. Full marks!