!!! Myth Takes by: Greg DeGraves Fri:26-Jan-07 Label: Warp Records Year: 2007 WB rating 61 out of 100

What kind of pre-pubescent, cock-rock, acronymic wearing posturising is this??? Like a surreal time warp to the hedonistic ’70s, I can imagine a conga line of utterly impressionable iPod lemmings strutting with their barely-interested smugness and nonchalant flippancy to this hipster slop. I can see them now, outside my very own front door, scurrying like rats to dolce eateries, these little boutique bunnies breeding right in front of my nose; grinding their teeth to !!!.

While my disdain for all things preppy will never cease, the diversity of !!! presents an interesting conundrum. I agree to strap myself into the feeding frenzy and head uptown with the Mods and their mistresses; I’ll see where Myth Takes leads us – “We are, after all, professionals” …

Opening with the title track, Myth Takes barks a brooding, Tarantino-fuelled witch hunt. Here !!! fashion a barren wasteland; where we pass heads on sticks and bats flying overhead, often a little too close for comfort. The smoky drawl of Nic Offer has a casual charm, a warm ghostliness that floats over the urgent and incessant backing. Like some long-forgotten From Dusk Till Dawn treasure, ‘Myth Takes’ uses seductive squeals and adrenaline drums to lure us forward, towards this dark and slightly odorous cave.

While early intentions would suggest that !!! are cave-luring in hope of a beheading, the truth is eons more enjoyable. ‘All My Heroes Are Weirdos’ sends us falling into some secular party, the followers are dancing and grating around the bonfire, beating their chests and rubbing each other in inappropriate places. Tribal and proto-punk, the drumming finesse of John Pugh is a driving call to arms. Offer’s bellowing call towards freakdom and counterculture makes for an enjoyable romp. But such bravado in leading rabble such as this seems nonsensical. !!! are not revolutionaries. They are the deckhands drinking blood and booze in Dionysian revelry.

Realising that their place is in the discothèque, !!! lead us towards a bright, pulsating circular room: ‘Must Be The Moon’. This joint is an epileptic’s nightmare; colours flash and flare in-synch with the relentless, pacing rhythm. We are dead centre in this living breathing hullabaloo, arm-to-arm beside kids with eyes that are merely pupils. These young bodies sweat and grind their teeth.

This is utter pleasure-seeking utilitarianism and we stand mouth agape as the dumb sexuality of ‘Must Be The Moon’ unfolds like any great drama – A meeting: “I chatted her up out on the dance floor”; a complication: “She said love is love/But a fuck is what it is” and a resolution: “What a surprise when I got the cold shoulder in the morning/She said “you just got me hot, I finished off while you were snoring.” Lyrically as deep as the lid of a Coke can, three songs in !!! have forgotten revolution – they just want to fuck. Embracing hasty infancy, ‘Must be The Moon’ acknowledges that the only drinks served in establishments like these are Red Bull and water.

‘A New Name’ and ‘Heart of Hearts’ both continue in the same mechanical vain. The rush of serotonin is racing through our veins and the pulsating, over enthusiastic dancing continues unbridled into the wee hours of the morn. !!!’s electronic, good-time rock is proving quite the crowd pleaser, but is it any good? Should we follow the flock, mindlessly gyrating to these calculated peaks and swells?

Well, it seems too early to come down, but the night magic is fading and slowly things appear less four dimensional. That good looking girl on your left side; yeah that one with the studded belt you’ve been rubbing all night – she has an Adam’s apple. That keen young friend you’ve just met. Well, he looks like the same guy you cross the street to avoid on dark and dirty Smith Street nights. The seemingly poetic and virtuous beat of our house band, !!!, does not avoid realism. These rug burners now seem bland and grey; even the futuristic flashing bulbs and neon-glare of glow sticks doesn’t provide the necessary colour.

So what’s next? After nightclubs, vampire towns and the fires of revolution where do we go? Well, ‘Yadnus’ suggests we mash the Stevie Wonder funkiness of ‘Higher Ground’ with the hypnotic throb of kiddie-fiddler Gary Glitter’s ‘Rock and Roll (Part Two)’. ‘Yadnus’ is persistent enough to drill into your memory. But is this to be credited to the stomping stadium renditions of Gary Glitter, the quintessential cool of Stevie, or is Myth Takes the real concoctor of catchiness? We, our brains fried like a hastily cooked Sunday big breakfast, will leave the judgement to you.

!!! had us out drinking blood, we were part of their sect, writhing on the dance floor and chasing girls with Adam’s apples out into the moonlight. We met dark strangers, revolutionaries and drugged-out DJ’s. Myth Takes proved to be a good time.

Waking at noon, I look over my corner; the iPod lemmings are still strutting, talking loudly and pretending to ignore each other. I think I know what they’re listening to and where they are going but I’m wrong: navy blue is the new pink, like black was the new blue and white was the old grey. Sure, they’re still strutting but the soundtrack’s another disposable bookmark. Oh well, !!! served their purpose.