Sleigh Bells' Treats
The MIA-endorsed band delivers an album of noised-up pop
From the moment ‘Tell ‘Em’s machine-gun beats and bombastic guitars pummel your ears into stunned submission, Treats struts up and down before you like some aggressively flirtatious hipster girl, just daring you not to fall for its fuck-you (-and-we’ll-mix-country-with-electro-if-we-want-to) attitude and MIA-endorsed, so-Brooklyn-it-hurts coolness.
If its disjointed relentlessness and almost unchanging set-up of sharp drums, fuzzed-up guitar and she-devil squeals becomes a little wearing at times, at 30 minutes long Treats hardly has a chance to outstay its welcome. This is celebratory, trashy, showy music for when you’re feeling celebratory, trashy and showy. ‘A/B Machines’ typifies its whole appeal: lyrically, it’s the simplest and most nonsensical of the tracks, yet with its grimey beats, spaghetti Western guitar and frenzied screaming, it’s among the very best.