I Don't Run

I Don't Run

On their second record, Spanish garage rock quartet Hinds—famed for their raucous energy, bellowed dive bar melodies and wobbling, Jenga tower rhythms—embrace something closer to conventional, harmonious order. Much of this comes from producer Gordon Raphael; the man behind the boards for The Strokes' similarly pitched breakthrough brings a new crispness to those swirling guitar lines and there is always palpable songcraft underpinning, say, the sing-song, playground anarchy of “Tester”. But the Madrid-raised sisters-in-arms deserve credit for drilling down to richer themes that cover infidelity, sexism and the psychic toll of inveterate hedonism. And “The Club” may be the exemplar of this new lyrical and sonic maturity: a corkscrewing, unsteady hymn to nightlife that sounds both celebratory and anguished, defiant and wearily resigned.

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