The Hundred In The Hands, as those familiar with the band will know them, are a boy-meets-girl fusion of old world chanson deconstructed by the hammer of punk and rekindled in the a house of disco circa the late-’70s. Eleanore Everdell’s airy cooing vocals are the antithesis of the choppy, razor post-punk riffs that her band-mate creates, yet, where it comes together well, The Hundred In Hands manage to create mesmeric tracks of monolithic noise and danceable beat. The album isn’t exactly a ‘hits’ machine, but opener ‘Young Aren’t Young’ and ‘Dressed In Dresden’ give memorable moments and keep The Hundred In Hands’ hometown of Brooklyn definitively in the league of cool.
7/10
Words by Angela Balakrishnan
