Little Boots - Hands (Album)

Pop and alternative music have a funny old relationship really. On the whole, there’s an uneasy sense of détente, all the while buttressed by a smug sense of superiority on the part of the ‘serious’ music fans, which occasionally gives way to blasts of outright snobbery.

But, we’ve said it before, and we’ll say it again. Well-executed pop music is a an appallingly underrated artform. Its purveyors, therefore, deserve to be cherished.

So step forward Victoria Hesketh, aka Little Boots. The latest in a seemingly endless line of young female singers emerging with Human League records in their hands and one foot either side of the line between pop and credibility. The BBC didn’t know just how prescient they were when they named her ‘Sound of 2009’. Still though, it’s a sight better than the slew of Adele-alikes who crawled out of the woodwork in 2008 though.

In what has rapidly become an overcrowded genre, Little Boots has left a pretty high watermark. Hands is a strong pop record. While it loses marks for occasionally coming across a touch formulaic, it regains them in abundance for the sheer potency of its hooks. Almost every song is a single in waiting, with an outrageously catchy chorus lurking around every corner.

At times the vocal delivery is so languid that it’s clear she knows the pace of the songs will carry her through. Other instances see her overflowing with girlish giddiness as she threatens to drown us in syrup. ‘Mathematics’ and its metaphor-laden sweetness should have even the most ardent Wolf Eyes fan smiling a little, whether or not they care to admit it.

All the while, she is safe in the knowledge that the songs are enhanced by the muscle of the backing tracks underpinning them. The electro flourishes give the record power and texture, and drive the choruses further into your skull.

Hands is surprisingly cohesive when you consider the raft of people involved in its production. Perhaps in a way though it’s consistency is also its undoing. At times it comes over a touch predictable. As good as ‘Symmetry’ is, the Phil Oakey collaboration is just a little too on the nose. And it runs out of steam a little towards the end as Hesketh’s constant reference to her heart wear a bit thin.

All of which is a shame, really, because the last couple of songs might leave you with the false impression that Hands is a bad album, when in actual fact it’s a very good one. The album may not be perfect, but it contains so many moments of unbridled pop joy that you can forgive it its flaws. It’s a tough act for the Class of ‘09 to follow in any case.