++ALBUM++ review by Tom Artrocker

Test Icicles - For Screening Puropses Only

"This is a fine record, a kind of anti-matter Kaiser Chiefs..."

Where do you stand in the great Test Icicles debate? We know that a whole bunch of Arctic Monkeys fans have made up their minds, effectively boo-ing them off-stage at a recent gig. Opinion is very divided within Artrocker circles - is it hot or is it hype? Well it looks like label mates the Arctic Monkeys are stealing the hype crown right now (the truth will out) so where does that leave The Icicles? Only one way to find out I guess, let the music do the talking.

Or shouting. The Icicles are not the subtlest of groups, that's not their schtick, their referencing of The Beasties and any number of semi-obscure metal acts is not a pose, these influences scream (literally) at you from track one, "Your Biggest Mistake" which throbs its way towards sreamo without ever arriving there - thank God!

"The Icicles have no interest in changing the world, not when there are rafters to swing from"

Track 2 features harmony vocals, blimey, some mistake surely? The overall feel of the album is 'party' and as such reflects their vastly entertaining live show. There's a laudable innocence to this album, The Icicles have no interest in changing the world, not when there are rafters to swing from, so they eschew the deep and meaningful in favour of...Party! And there's nothing wrong with that. In many ways this album reminds me of the US punk acts that clean up all over the world, Green Day and Blink 182 wish they could produce something as incendiary as this baby, why, the American kiddies who buy that shit would have puppies if exposed to an Icicles tune.

This is a fine record, a kind of anti-matter Kaiser Chiefs, still pop music aimed at the feet but from a darker place, like Captain Black to The Kaiser's Captain Scarlett. But if the Mysterons are planning an imminent invasion I'll join the Test Icicles gang cos they aren't ugly ex-indie shite riding the wave they have no right to.

To borrow the parlance of the dance-floor e-heads (remember them?): Banging guys, banging!

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