Foals

Unfortunately, Foals’ debut Antidotes doesn’t deliver on frontman Yannis Philippakis’ promise that his band will resuscitate British indie rock. Though there are moments of resurrecting brilliance. The call-and-response vocals and rhythm-section on “Electric Bloom” sashay neatly, appropriating Wire and Gang of Four. “Tron” opens with the type of melon-splitting noise indigenous to the Kompakt label, then descends into a hyper dance/rock section that repeatedly re-boots itself. When those No Wave-sounding horns come in—certainly the influence of producer Dave Sitek (TV on the Radio)—one can understand the pleas for veneration; Foals blend a variety of genres (techno, post-punk, math rock) into a brilliant amalgam. But those highlights are scant. Foals’ meandering guitar melodies are fourth-hand threadbare (Joy Division/Interpol/Editors): bloodless notes falling ever-downward like the green drizzles of code in The Matrix. The seismic mischief and motor that’s earned Foals comparisons to predecessors (Q and Not U) and playmates (Battles) is conspicuously absent, and the pop recalcitrance Philippakis so boldly promised never materializes. One never should apologize for arrogance—just be certain to possess the chops to back it up.