It’s difficult to best know how to describe The Thirst.
I suppose Urchin pop is as good a nomenclature as any. For some reason whilst listening to this I imagined a cheeky chappie video, perhaps redolent of those early talkies where stage made up evil-doers steal pearls from sleeping heavily made up doe eyed socialites.
Jaunty. It’s jaunty, like scampy cats fighting in a bag – it embraces and then, wiping its mouth of kebab meat, French kisses the clear lineage of social commentary indie pop that London loves to put on display. It’s a guaranteed front four rows bouncing festival fare.
The ‘white hot’ micro house remix sounds like Bloc Party playing in a submarine circa 1997.