The “British Strokes” can be as tradition-bound as their U.S. counterparts–they’ve got the Clash’s ear for riff vandalism and a Sex Pistols jones for tabloid-punch-line excess. Their debut, Up the Bracket, often seemed like sloppiness under glass, and it doesn’t bode well for the future to hear them singing about setting suns and “looking rough and living strange” this early in the game. But there are moments of genuine posh-punk magic on this EP, particularly when they stop caring so much about not caring and let their genuine love for British rock history fly free.
