Mint Royale
Friday, May 20th, 2005 by Paul Irishvocal brighton downtempo // big beat
The starry-eyed look of love. The romantic dance under the lantern-lit tree. The music swells and supports that perfect moment, amalgamating the texture of her dress, her soft fingers curling around your nape, her breath combing down your cheek. Mint Royale, a duo that was once mistook as a pseudonym for Norman Cook, traditionally leans on the more brash party big beat sound, but in “Little Words” they deliver a soulful ballad of calming intent. It fits the perfect soundtrack moment where two strangers fall for each other, dance in the warm summer air, and land in a place of congruent love. Falling back into bed with her never felt so good.
Interstellar are a Toronto duo, much like the classic team of The Skydome and The CN Tower (only less architectural). Their music is an odd blend of synths, vaguely manipulated vocals, and a soft, acoustic sensibility―guitars, crickety cymbals, and well-rounded chords. I got hold of a promo of theirs about a year ago when their last album was released, because Sean from 
In elementary school, you like girls. In middle school, it’s cute girls. In high school, it’s cute girls in the same classes as you. By now, you have an (un)determined set of specific criteria by which you select potential mates. Your personal maturity and development has made romantic compatibility into an elusive and challenging goal. Now personally, this song feels like it finds the nooks and crannies of my musical compatibility and fills them to fulfillment. Nothing exceptional stands out audibly, but it gives me the exact sonic mood that I need — in this case, complex beauty.
Brit Tom McRae has a way with music. Critics lauded his 2001 self-titled release and it earned him a Mercury prize nomination. Many suggest comparisions to Nick Drake and early Dylan aren’t such a stretch. It’s his warm and homey while intimately gloomy mood that creates such a stir. His blisteringly bare vocals create a vocal line that slowly wraps around you like a smile. His quiet guitar strumming provides the pillow for your wondering head to crash down on.
This song isn’t about Faultline. It’s not about how as a child he blew out his left lung while playing clarinet in orchestra. No. What distinguishes this song from the rest of the tracks on Faultline’s recently re-released album is the melancholy voice of Coldplay’s Chris Martin. It’s bare, fragile, and leaking wistful emotion at the sides. This should have been the hidden track on Rush of Blood to the Head.