Send "White Lies " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Nme |
 Watch the Dark Music young and you’ve a chance of growing out of it. A teenage goth phase is so natural Alan sodding Carr probably had one. Catch the Dark Music as you enter adulthood, however, and you risk a lifelong infection. They’ll have to bury Robert Smith in a mushroom-shaped coffin, and White Lies look equally beyond redemption. Once the Day-Glo’d pups of Fear Of Flying, one of the chippier nipper-pop bands to emerge from the underage Way Out West scene, they’re back with Interpol-black shirts, Curtis-bleak cheekbones and Damned-bombastic church organ synths. “This fear’s got a hold on me” wails Harry McVeigh in Julian Cope’s most dolorous baritone on a song entitled, rather uncompromisingly, ‘Death’ and their mothers weep. There’ll be no glitter-strewn glam period for these lost souls; the Dark Music’s got them for good....full text |
| Clashmusic |
| Domestic indie hopes in 2009 seem rather pinned to White Lies’ mast right now, the London trio carrying a great weight of expectation upon their shoulders. ‘To Lose My Life’, the debut album from the band formerly known as Fear Of Flying, emerges through a thick fog of buzz, the kind that only descends around this time of year. (Don’t worry, it’ll lift by March.) The record’s release date of January 19 gives it a decent chance of significantly denting the album chart, and that’s regardless of how it’s received amongst critics. Which is likely to be with mixed results. That White Lies have attracted a considerable amount of comparisons to acts preceding their appearance, before amassing a substantial catalogue of work, should tell you something about their sound. It’s one that regards imitation as flattery, a clutch of these songs coming on like a gloom-laden Editors, or The Cribs had the Jarman brothers been obsessed by Depeche Mode as kids. Produced by Ed Buller and Max Dingel, whose past credits include Glasvegas and The Killers, the album’s high-gloss epic-feel aesthetic will click immediately with fans of the aforementioned artists, as choruses soar and frontman Harry McVeigh’s vocals send listeners spinning into black holes of melancholy....full text |
| Independent |
| Everything about this North Ealing trio is built for size. 'To Lose My Life' kicks off in widescreen Arcade Fire-meets-Coldplay mode, and doesn't let up. Like Editors and the Killers, White Lies are blatantly Eighties-influenced (the long-coated, mulleted epic stuff). Typically, the bassline patiently pounds the root note, patiently waiting for the big heroic guitar chord to come in, followed by the reverb-drenched stadium-friendly riff, and finally Harry McVeigh arrives, his handsome baritone swelling to a Julian Cope blare. Seemingly suffering the delusion that he's a windswept romantic poet, McVeigh's lyrics tend towards trite and banal Simple Minds-isms ("I wonder what keeps us high up/Could there be love beneath these wings?"). In fairness, the subject matter is often dark: suicide and self harm, hospitals and funerals. And the music has its moments (notably the crystalline keyboards on the chorus of "Fifty on Our Foreheads")....full text |
White Lies lyrics
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