“We are just having fun,” we hear on I Don’t Run, the second album by Hinds, four twentysomethings from Madrid who love the lazy melodies of The Strokes, the rattling guitars of Black Lips, and the laconic lens through which Mac DeMarco gazes at the unbearable lightness of being.
The English of singers Carlotta Cosials and Ana García Perrote is as disarming as their harmonies, their hooks bring rays of sunshine, but behind their sunglasses there is also doubt, disillusionment, and frustration:
“Dude, I get confused I’m not openly yours / And what about the necking / When I came / Should I’ve known before you were also banging her?”
> Hinds. 24/4, 20.00, Ancienne Belgique