If Wild Beasts’ two lead singers were one single dude, they would be the greatest male vocalist ever.  On my first listen through the English quartet’s deeply entertaining second record, Two Dancers, I was convinced that Hayden Thorpe and Tom Fleming, rather than two talented singers were, indeed, one mega-singer, kind of like the blue alien soloist in The Fifth Element. In particular, the paired vocals on “All the King’s Men,” (which you can hear below) with Thorpe’s wild falsetto howl (“Watch me, watch me”),  immediately followed by Fleming’s smoother, more sensual tones (“the belle of the ball…”) were similar enough in intonation to convince me that one cat was wailing through both of them; full disclosure: I felt a little cheated when I did the old due diligence and sorted out that there are indeed two lead singers in Wild Beasts.  (Quick digression:  Mrs. Citizen, in particular, was bummed out when she heard the news.  She’d been humming “All the King’s Men” all week and was under the impression that the singer was a male second coming of Whitney Houston and her four octave range.)  However, if my own confusion underscores anything, it’s that Wild Beasts have a sound that is both unique and varied.  There are traces of things that sound familiar on Two Dancers (there’s a snippet of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” on the hard to pin down “We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues” for instance), but, for the most part, the occassioally outlandish vocals, vaguely 80s-eqsue soundscapes and lyrical content alternatingly seedy and frat-boy naughty sound like nothing else that comes readily to mind.  (You can stretch, but it doesn’t really work.  A less-dancy, way more British VHS or Beta?  Late period The Cure with campier vocals, louder guitars and way less eyeliner? A radically more modern and overtly iconoclastic Wham?  See?  There’s not a lot of easy comparison here.  If I’m missing something obvious, hit it in the comments.)

At least part of the appeal of Wild Beasts is that they describe acting irresponsibly and (maybe) imorally with panache and confidence, while managing to seem a little guilty about it.  That’s a tone with a lot of subtlety, a characteristic that’s often missing from modern music.  When the band sings “What’s so wrong with just a little fun,” they’re both acknowledging questionable behavior and seeking approval for it.  Bad-ass.  In parts, the band brings to mind Bill Buford’s classic Among the Thugs, an exploration of soccer holliganism.  (Read it immediately if you haven’t.)  One of the fundamental arguments of that book is that it’s nearly impossible to deal with a large group of people who refuse to acknowledge any rules.  Wild Beasts can sound like the purest of hooligans on Two Dancers, but they seem to have second thoughts right after.

Clocking in at under forty minutes, Two Dancers is over in a flash.  The songs that stand out on the record are the ones that either showcase the vocals of Thorpe and Fleming or the ones that highlight the chops and craftiness of lead guitarist Ben Little.  The title track and it’s sequel (literally; it’s labeled as “Two Dancers II”) are the only spot where the album drags a touch; the two tunes are, I’d argue, significantly darker than the rest of the record, both lyrically and sonically (it’s vague, but there’s clearly some sort of sexual abuse being described throughout both).  The songs work; I’m not suggesting they suck, but they seem slightly out of place on an album that opens with a repeated shout out to booty calls.  Given that much of the record hits two tones on the sexually tinged content, a sort of cynical celebration of debauchery paired with an almost baroque carelessness, the “Two Dancers” pieces make sense.  That said, they still bum me out.  Wild Beasts could have taken the bloom off the rose a bit more delicately perhaps.

Those reservations aside, the first three songs on Two Dancers are top-drawer.  The record opens with a minute or two of slowly building, semi-dance music before Thorpe’s falsetto laces into the speakers.  If, like me, you missed Wild Beasts first record, the over-the-top dramatics and pitch changes in Thorpe’s delivery are going to be a bit shocking to the ear.  They also rule.  We get more of them in “Hooting and Howling,” which starts off contemplative and spare, but grows into a bit of a sonic whirlwind.  It’s the track that sticks with me the most; I love the subtle drum entrance, the mild sonic explosion around the minute mark and the way that Thorpe pushes out the word “brutes” over and over.  All told, it’s a humdinger.  Completing the assault that is the first three tracks is the aforementioned “All the King’s Men,” which has a couple of killer lyrics, including repeated references to girls in all sorts of positions. The tune also features the deeply catchy, multitracked oh-oh-oh-ohs, which, strangely, remind me of the similarly subverted doo-wop stylings on Grizzly Bear’s “Two Weeks.”  (I could be way off base there.  I haven’t been able to stop listening to Veckatimest lately, so it might infiltrating my brain when it ought not.)  There are other spots that shine on the record, notably “We Still Got the Taste Dancing on Our Tongues,” with its almost aggressively hedonistic posturing, shouted, semi-western chanting and bizarre U2 reference.  The album’s closer, “The Empty Nest” is also a winner, with a guitar line that could work in a calypso, which you don’t see work out with any sort of regularity.  Taking all things into account, the kick-ass opener, the middle two songs that strike me as out of place and the remaining songs occasionally touching greatness, you’ve got a record that you can listen to straight through while you fold your laundry or some such.  It hits shelves on this side of the pond on September 8th and is well worth checking out.  (English folks have had it since August, but we won’t hold that against them.)

Wild Beasts – All the King’s Men

Pre-order Wild Beasts at insound.

Given that I can’t swim at all (I’m fairly convinced that I don’t float and jellyfish scare the hell out of me), the video for “Hooting and Hollering” is terrifying.  The song, however, is impossible to shake.