There’s been an insistent hum buzzing about inscrutable British producers Real Lies that’s been quietly intensifying ever since pseudo mixtape Poise of Veron was uploaded to SoundCloud a little earlier on in the week though go Deeper below, and you’ll hear just how patently the anticipatory www. hubbub appears to have been vindicated. For whoever may be behind the nom de plume (give ‘em a bell on 07989746710 if you’re feeling forward), there’s a stirring composure to this disco-dappled slive of shiny brilliance: at once redolent of the Pet Shop Boys’ speak-sing glint West End Girls, it’s a quintessentially London affair with lyrics of red wine stains sinking irreversibly into plush carpets, “chip shop boys” and expiring cigarettes the order of these four and a bit innovatory minutes. It’s rare that such an inextricable influence can result in a composition that’s this doting without ever sounding derivative, although Real Lies may yet transpire to be a memory of the future well worth ingraining for posterity’s sake posthaste.
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