Kaleo could not be more 2016 if they buried Trump, Brexit and a Beyoncé think-piece in a time capsule. They look as if they have been styled by Coachella. They sound as if they’re from 1960s Texas, but in fact come from Mosfellsbaer in Iceland. Their frontman has that pigeon-warble that afflicts so many young singer-songwriters these days, and their drummer wears a fedora. In our post-Spotify era, it’s not unusual for musicians to magpie inspiration from anywhere and any time, but Kaleo don’t appear to have a single original idea between their slick quiffs. Hot Blood is a more full-blooded Black Keys; Way Down We Go’s affected blues is on a par with anything James Bay has ever crooned. The rest features lots of Kings of Leon riffage and lyrics that mercilessly raid the rum-drinking/road-tripping/devils/bones/Mississippi cliche stockpile. There’s even a really quite objectionable Bon Iver rip-off in All the Pretty Girls, in which singer JJ Julius Son asks said girls to “lay me down”, as if starring in a quirky indie romcom inside his own head. They’ll go far.
