Hurts
Exile

With Happiness, the English duo Hurts climbed to the podium of the most unfortunate pop debuts of recent times, a not very admirable achievement dictated by their inability to make the revival of "orchestral" electronic music, pomaded hair, and retro style—modeled after collectives like Eurythmics, Talk Talk, Frankie Goes To Hollywood, A-Ha, and others—current, or at least enjoyable and fascinating. There was little to save in the debut, perhaps the duet with the monumental Kylie Minogue in Devotion, and most of the proposals were nothing more than a bland grind of outdated eighties clichés laced with a pseudo-romantic and pseudo-nostalgic atmosphere that was moderately cloying. Now, less than three years after the black&white plasticity in suit and tie, Hurts attempt to step back into the mainstream scene with a post-debut that completely overturns the inefficacy of Happiness in revisiting the all-too-successful synthpop formula: the new Exile quickly turns towards a mix of sounds that, while settling in the realm of synthesizers, wink at other collectives and models, and in particular, emulate the new direction taken by Muse with The 2nd Law. The artificially-orchestral syrup of the ballads from the first album is largely abdicated, and the duo opens up to current electronic diversions and flirts with dubstep, rock, industrial, and techno, still staying on the commercial pop branch. The result is reasonably positive and finally guarantees these exiles of the Eighties a niche, still limited, in the music biz saturated to the brim with synth avant-gardism.

The album is opened by the singles Miracle and Blind, two piano-electronic ballads (with the second featuring R&B veins and vague resemblances to Beyoncé's Halo) that keep on the same path as the debut, but are more intense, sincere, sumptuous, and atmospheric. The stakes get serious with Cupid, a sort of industrial-blues combo not far from Depeche Mode's Policy of Truth (Violator, 1990), the synthetic rock à la Muse in The Rope, the dubstep darkness of Mercy and The Road, another ad hoc adaptation of Gahan and company's repertoire. Left out of this round are the not excessively sweetened ballads, among which The Crow and Somebody To Die For should be noted.

Who would have thought that the glaring unkept promise of the debut (nowadays the moment when freshmen manage to give their best artistically and commercially) could be postponed to the fateful second album. Well, Hurts with Exile show that not all is lost and that only the ability to look with wisdom and clarity at the current music scene with its many reference points and just as many wastes and follies can turn into precious lifeblood for the future. The duo still needs to grow, and this ray of sunshine appearing once the clouds of Happiness part is not enough to stabilize them in a fake pop Olympus. Nothing remains but to wait for the third round and definitively judge the resilience of these lovers of the beautiful lost decade and their relentless reviving of it against the challenges that the ineffable galaxy of entertainment provides to its followers and the followers of its followers.

Hurts, Exile

Exile - Miracle - Sandman - Blind - Only You - The Road - Cupid - Mercy - The Crow - Somebody To Die For - The Rope - Help - Heaven - Guilt