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Omega Male

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Alpha males are everywhere. On television. In the newspapers. Driving their sports cars through puddles in the street and subsequently soaking you in your own ineptitude. There’s probably one kicking you in the shin while you read this, while flirting with your mother and making disparaging remarks about your shoes. Piers Morgan, Simon Cowell, Cristiano Ronaldo, Jeremy Clarkson; frankly, all these alpha males can take a mass holiday to an industrial blender in Hannover.

Thankfully, the omega males are fighting back. Well, not really fighting, that’s not their style, but certainly making themselves known – in Omega Male’s case, by making catchy, laid back synth pop. And why not? Brighton’s David Best, who makes up one half of the duo, has already got form in the genre thanks to his fine work as part of Fujiya & Miyagi, while Brooklynite Sammy Rubin’s experience in Project Jenny, Project Jan confirms his own dabbling in the indie/dance crossover field. Together, their skills have forged an enjoyable debut album that takes the listener through the highs and lows (mostly lows) of being an omega male.

The eponymous title track is a case in point. The words, according to the duo themselves, describe “the attributes of a typical omega male, who feel it’s safer to not attempt tasks for fear of failure”. Fortunately they cast aside their own fear of ailure to write another nine equally addictive tunes, from the excellently-developed electro of “Wax & Glue” to the withdrawn farewell of “Buildings Like Symphonies”. Among these is a track called “Blue Narcissus” which is apparently about “people who strategically voted for the liberal democrats”, surely the most desperately anguished of all omega male archetypes.

Honest, perceptive, quirky and with a passion for synth flourishes and cute plinky bits, the track sums Omega Male up nicely. Describing the concept of omega males in The Guardian, Best and Rubin admit, “sometimes we’re rubbish. And that’s OK”. Fortunately Omega Male the band are rarely ever rubbish, and, for us, that’s very, very good.

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Cold Pumas

Cold Pumas
'Persistent Malaise' could describe a lot of things. The Liberal Democrats. Mark Lawrenson. A good brand name for my diet, if you condensed everything I ate and put it into jars. Yet ironically it doesn't describe the debut album of Cold Pumas, even though that's what they've called the bloody thing. Perhaps it's more a description of the time spent making it. After all, they've been on the radar for a few years now - did a long period of ennui hinder its creation? It doesn't really matter. The important thing is that the music of Cold Pumas is more likely to snap you out of a malaise than put you into one. Musically, their clashing guitars, droning dissonance and muddied vocals produce a sound uncannily similar to Canadian art-rockers Women (indeed, they launched a split single with them a couple of years back). Usually sounding so like another band is a bit off-putting, but in this case it achieves the opposite effect, for two reasons: 1) Women traigically lost guitarist Chris Reimer earlier this year (and were already on hiatus before that) and both man and music are sadly missed; and 2) Women were fucking brilliant, so sounding a lot like them really isn't a problem. Standout tracks like "A Versatile Gift" and "Sherry Island" show an expansive attitude towards song-writing, favouring patiently-developed journeys over succinct statements. As a result, the music seems to penetrate deeper into your head, peeling back the papered cracks and snaking around shadowy corners, pervasive and affecting, right up until the triumphantly distorted "Vanishing Point" sees the record out. It might have taken a while for their long-playing vaccine to get here, but it confirms that Cold Pumas are the cure, not the cause.
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