White Lies' album Ritual dominated my headphones for a good four months a few years ago. It was huge and emotional and serious and so fucking easy to get stuck in my head and in turn, it got stuck in my stereo for what felt like the entire year of 2011.
I owe White Lies for renewing my love of the big bands. The bands that you didn't just listen to, but the bands you googled to see pictures of, read more about, watch live video clips of shows in far off lands, find out what their favorite foods were and then practice cooking those foods so if you ran into each other randomly you could kidnap them and feed them and they wouldn't try and run away as fast as if you didn't know how to make just the most stunning mushroom risotto.
I hadn't had this sort of fascination with a group of music makers since the early days of Pearl Jam, where I would sit on my bed and listen and thumb through the CD insert and find out which bands each member of the current line up used to be in, what their sound was inspired by, dietary sensitivities, how often they shopped at CostCo, etc.. White Lies were so sonically all encompassing I didn't need other music.
If you ever find yourself on a one band binge, like my recent Father John Misty ordeal, you'll notice life taking on an almost predictable flavor in relation to song lyrics or specific parts of songs that nature and/or the sounds of the city tend to mimic. I can't completely explain it without potentially boring you out of reading any further, and believe me I want you to at least read far enough to consider peeping Big TV from White Lies, but White Lies is a band that I have been obsessed with in the past, and this new album might lend others to join me in dedicating a large amount of non-predetermined time obsessing over them.
Big TV contains the trademark traits of White Lies which include, but are not limited to, big memorable choruses, tasteful bee-do-dee-do-bee-do-dee-do synths and synthetic strings, power chord hungry song progressions, and those haunting ass motherfucking vocals from the stalkable Harry McVeigh. Harry's vocals are so fucking deep and so damn close to being a caricature of itself through the over the top concentrated intensity of his pronunciationz, but I'll be a fucking screaming White Lies fanboy, they're perfect.
I'm not even speaking in generalities, Big TV contains some White Lies songs that will be dragged into my Balls Ass White Lies playlist that contains nearly all of the Ritual album.
Big TV is another fucking balls awesome White Lies album, and if you're considering hopping on the bandwagon of a band you can obsess about, lick the White Lies frog bro.