Curve – Doppelgänger — music review
Yah, I won’t be the first to admit that Curve can be a wee-bit um, redundant, or do I mean consistent? Their shrieking wall of guitar fuzz, insistent bass, 120 minimum bpm, Toni Halliday darkly throating the epitome of whine-rock lyrics. And nevermind their internal bickering, their demise wholeheartedly encouraged by copy-cats like Garbage or sound-alikes like My Bloody Valentine. But I won’t be the last to announce the attraction to them either.
Their words a bit too desperate and possessive for my current tastes (”You just hate me for being me/ You just hate me for being born”), I still appreciate their overall sound. Although resigned to background traffic, I still play them occasionally when dredging out housecleaning ditties or blast-from-the-past shoegazing doldrums. Of course, Doppelgänger appears a little sloppy and underdressed when compared to the awesome Come Clean or Cuckoo, but it was their debut. As a standalone, you can easily admit their appeal, their displayed temperment. Oh angst, sexy angst! The title track is like a premonition of their future sound, heavy with steady bass jabs, simple snares, 
deep off-putting signature flats, breathy vocal urges and sighs. Sandpit is their “token ballad” track and is three-and-a-half minutes of dream-worthy, using the guitar mash this time as undulating waves of white-noise.
The interesting thing about Curve is their ability to be harsh and sweet, frantic and relaxed at the same time. Kind of like being seduced by Count Dracula yet knowing you’ll be eternally damned but, oh well here we go.
About the Author
