Modestep - Sunshine

by Amy Putman Rating:1 Release Date:2011-08-15

I was promised dubstep and hard rock. What I received was insipid, repetitive dance-pop blended with the kind of industrial that could only be created by taking a five-year-old who had never heard industrial music into a studio, describing industrial music using no more than three syllables and then getting them to make some.

This is one of the most awful songs I have ever heard. I tried very hard to find a redeeming feature; I tortured myself by sitting through it five times. No more; my life is more precious than that and this is rotting away my insides with its despicable lack of talent. I am amazed that anyone was deluded and tasteless enough to make this track, let alone try to send it out to the masses.

Don't get me wrong, I think the idea of dubstep/hard rock is brilliant. I leaped at this review with hunger for what I imagined would be my new favourite music. So let's be clear, the idea was a fine one and for that Modestep should get a giant chocolate brownie and a high-five from everyone in the street; it's just that the execution was sloppy, thoughtless, empty, cheap and easy. It is as though that idea took so long that they only had half an hour to cobble together the actual music before a tight deadline. This is the aural equivalent of a first year essay; or overcooked fresh peas - hours to shell and then turned into tasteless green pap. At least green is a nice colour. This wasn't even green.

The singer's voice is nauseating, camp and monotonal. The beat is roughly chopped; not in an energetic, mood-building manner but in a way that suggests a lack of understanding of rhythm. The industrial parts are lumped in willy-nilly and clumsily, with little build or blend. The change in tempo is rushed and clunky. The lyrics are ridiculous and rather dull. Rebecca Black's 'Friday' was better written.

What annoyed me most though were the parts where the song gives way to dance. What should happen is that the slow parts should wind around you atmospherically, like tendrilous tethers of dope smoke, silk and incense. You should feel like a snake dancer, displaying your curves and twists, slowly turning as a cog in the larger machine of the tethered mob. Then the music should kick away the chains, the atmosphere should drop to bass, shattering the smooth heat and replacing it with icy fervour. Like beserking Vikings, you should party wildly, gyrating fiercely and smashing your limbs into the beat, grinding yourself until you are the bass; you are the music and it offers you freedom, liberal flailing and sex.

What Modestep did, however, was switch abruptly from yawny chav-pop that would make me sit down in the middle of a motorway and barf on a carousel, straight into clunky electronic buffets which felt like someone was force-feeding you lard while a saggy stripper was being slapped by a fat rubber cock in the other corner.

This is unrefined, tedious, lip-curling mess. Unless you are a boy racer planning to destroy the lives of the other yobs in Southend by putting them into vomiting sleep half-way through a drag race, I'd steer well clear. I only wish there was an option for 0/10.

Overall Rating (0)

0 out of 5 stars
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