By the looks of things, it’s been a busy year for Latvian indie-pop band Carnival Youth: a debut album, airplay from Steve Lamacq, The Guardian, XFM, Artrocker… If they seem vaguely familiar, it’s because they probably are. In the last 12 months or so they’ve played at The Great Escape festival, Open’er, the Godiva festival main stage – people want to hear this band play, and with good reason.
It’s not something we’ve never heard before, but it doesn’t feel overdone or replicated, either. Whatever formula helped push Milky Chance into the public eye last year, perhaps the year before, seems to help out in No Clouds Allowed. It might not be as woozy, as slurred, but that same sort of sense of premeditated nostalgia rings through, like watching summer go by from behind a camera lens. You feel strangely aged after the first run through. It’s an odd one.
There is quite an inescapable sentiment of wistfulness that keeps popping up throughout the album: “I’ll never have enough of this” the band murmur in ‘Never Have Enough’. Unelaborate, gently explored thematics and clever little riffs threaded through the album make this the perfect pedigree of contemporary indie music, without the stupid hair and gimmicks. Full of Arcade Fire influences and suggestions of even The Coral, Alt-J, Bombay Bicycle Club, there’s an emphasis placed on the aggregate whole of what the album is trying to be. That is, what it sounds like all put together. It does all blend together quite nicely, which, as a debut, provides a strong, well-composed introduction as to why Carnival Youth ought to stand out.
The first half of the album might feel more instantly memorable for its hooky patterning and attention to detail, but moving into the last few songs, No Clouds Allowed seems to work at becoming more easily distinguishable from its contemporaries – more identikit, in the non-derogatory sense of the word. It is well articulated, well orchestrated, and the care that’s gone into the album really does shine through the more you listen to it. It’s as emotionally crippling as it is stimulating, as weirdly depressing as it is hypnotising, and all in all discovers its identity as quite a modest, likeable piece of music. Never boring, though. It’s definitely a lot less bland than some of the more one-dimensional acts fronting the scene at the moment, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see this band appearing on the lineups of some of Britain’s major festivals this time next year.
8.5/10
Words by James Reynolds