The xx

The xx
The "Sound of Young London" Comes of Age
By Andrew Clayman
Published in The Metro Pulse, March 2010



After a couple decades of ego-tripping, pill-popping, and general excess, the “Sound of Young London” moved in a decidedly more timid, modest, and romantic direction in 2009— a sea change spearheaded by a band of pale-faced, leather-clad 20 year-olds called The xx.

Unwitting rock stars if there ever were any, Oliver Sim (bass, vocals) and his childhood mate Romy Madley Croft (guitars, vocals) began their platonic musical partnership nearly five years ago while students at London’s prestigious Elliott School (also a former stomping ground for members of Hot Chip, Four Tet, and Burial). Here, they developed a rather uniquely 21st century style of collaboration, shyly exchanging song ideas and strings of suggestive lyrics via the relatively impersonal means of email and text messaging. Face to face, the two life-long friends felt a tad inhibited, but with a digital veil between them, Sim and Croft were able to translate their mutual teenage confusion into intimate, icicle-cool boy/girl seductions, many of which would feature prominently on The xx’s manically applauded self-titled debut album last year.

“I think it was very natural,” says Sim, speaking from a tour stop in Leeds, UK. “I don’t think we set out consciously to make any specific kind of music, or to try to emulate anyone. So, a lot of the uniqueness of it was maybe just happy accidents. Butit definitely came about very naturally rather than as some kind of contrived plan.”

While the UK press quickly adorned The xx with the aforementioned “Sound of Young London” tag, the uniqueness that Sim speaks about is really most evident in the band’s surprising maturity and restraint. Sim’s slinky basslines, Croft’s skeletal guitar parts, and the accompanying atmospheres of percussionist/producer Jamie Smith (and ex-keyboardist Baria Qureshi) favor mood, minimalism, and delicacy over big riffs or heavy overdubs. Stylistically, they stalk the same shadowy tunnels that New Order and Massive Attack once did, only with a softer step and fewer distractions.

“A lot of that simplicity on the record just started out as a result of our own limitations,” Sim says. “As we’ve grown as musicians, it’s become possible for us to complicate these parts and layer and fill out the sound. But at the same time, it’s something we’ve had to be very aware of—keeping that sense of restraint even as we evolve—because we all see the value in that simpler, more direct sound.”

It might seem odd for a 20 year-old kid to be talking about his artistic “evolution,” but lest it be forgotten, a person tends to change an awful lot between, say, freshman year of high school and freshman year of college. And so, while Sim and Croft managed to avoid nearly every calamity of the teen-penned love song on their debut (note the unorthodox embrace of insecurities on “Crystalised” or “Shelter”), their perspective on the subject matter has certainly changed over time.

“It’s definitely interesting,” Sim says. “Like, some of these songs were written when we were 16, and a lot of it was coming from expectation or observations of other people’s relationships. And now, as time has gone on, it’s more a case of drawing from our own personal experiences. Scarily, it’s gotten a bit darker as it’s gotten more personal, too [laughs]. I’ve noticed that.”

Indeed, The xx may be one of the darkest acts at a relatively colorful Big Ears Fest this year—both in terms of sound and style. On stage, the band is always donned in black, with the pale, pomapdoured Sim, in particular, looking a bit like the love child of Dave Gahan and Siouxsie Sioux—or possibly a sexually ambiguous street thug from a musical adaptation of Snatch.

“Yeah, we used to turn up to gigs a few years ago, in the beginning, and people would ask us if we played death metal,” Sim says, adding that he has never fancied himself a Goth, either. “So, I don’t know what our style really says about our music. But really, that’s not something we’ve ever concerned ourselves with. Like, if I turned up to a rehearsal in bright orange one day, Romy and Jamie wouldn’t send me home and tell me to change into black immediately [laughs]. I just think when you spend that much time together in a close group, you kind of pick up some things off one another.”

In other words, the black garb might just be a subconscious expressive of a bond between band mates, or perhaps more significantly, a bond between childhood chums.

“We all appreciate being able to do this with our best friends,” Sim concurs. “I can imagine it being really lonely out here without them.”