Limbo, Panto

They owe nothing to a far-gone musical moment, nor can they be pigeonholed. Limbo, Panto may be one of 2008’s most startlingly great debuts.

Underneath these filmy and seductive layers is not a band in limbo. This may be Wild Beasts' first album, but they've got a fully developed aesthetic, one that is thematically and vocally alien, but sonically, pop and conventional.

As such, Limbo, Panto is shocking, funny, and above all irrevocable. Expect this lot to be around for the long haul.

It exists in its own eccentric, unique universe, and that is the best thing that any debut album can do.

For every failure there is a song of such coruscating originality, it sends you reeling.

Hayden Norman Thorpe's falsetto squawk is the controversial focal point but his lust for language is equally extraordinary.

Wild Beasts’ debut takes masterstrokes in its stride, as considered and calculated in its polyrhythmic textures and it is breathtakingly fresh in its approach.

Not to be taken lightly, dramatic tone and lyrical silliness obscure a sinister impulse throbbing within the album, spitting delightfully mysterious candy machines baubles onto your eager palm. [Nov/Dec 2008, p.87]

In its own way, the Wild Beasts' volatile flamboyance is more difficult to embrace than an overtly dissonant experimental band's music, but that's just another way that this group sets itself apart from the rest of the pack--and there's something very liberating about that, even if it's baffling at times.

There's every sense that Wild Beasts are happy embracing their own ridiculousness and there's enough cheeky humour here, "chocs away!" shagging scenarios and references to old boys and institutions to suggest that whilst there's serious musical craft at foot, the whole lark's just a jolly good old wheeze and "Limbo, Panto" is all the more fun for it.

This is a brave and hugely ambitious record, projecting far beyond the limits of most bands in their early twenties today.

As a whole, Limbo, Panto’s uniqueness translates to something remarkably special and substantial rather than mere luster.

A weird little debut, this one has some promising moments.

Until the group learns to keeps pace or more effectively makes space for Thorpe, their singer will remain the first, best, and only reason to listen to Wild Beasts.

of whether the dance-punk grooves and elusive, histrionic hooks resonate, Thorpe has a point he's determined to make: Even the most sensitive fop can be a hormonal horndog.