Send "Shy Child " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Guardian |
 New York duo Pete Cafarella and Nate Smith first gained attention in America's nu-rave scene, wearing orange hoodies and scoring a cult hit with jerky 2007 electro-stomper Noise Won't Stop. However, they seem to have matured, their fourth album delivering a sound somewhere between the Scissor Sisters' exhilarating falsetto and the edgier global funk of Remain in Light-era Talking Heads. On tracks like the terrific Disconnected, Shy Child they reach that elusive collision of dancefloor exhibitionism and existential introspection. There's a sense of familiarity, whether in their use of a Fleetwood Mac sample and Chic bell sounds, or the way a Jenn Vix narrative ("I used to be in bands...") recalls how the Orb used a Rickie Lee Jones conversation in Little Fluffy Clouds. However, it's unusual to find a band equally at home with electronic funk and soft rock who can produce an album that will delight fans of either....full text |
| Bbc |
| Noise Won’t Stop proclaimed the title of Shy Child’s 2007 album, a sonic assault of hyper-charged, barely controlled electro passion that broke the Brooklyn duo in the UK. The noise, as such, hasn’t stopped for its follow-up – but calling it noise seems at the very least inappropriate, if not downright offensive. Gone is the raucous nu-rave frenzy of Drop the Phone and Pressure to Come, with their urgent yelps and scattergun rhythms. The beast, it seems, has been tamed, and it’s grown up and left the dingy punk basement for the shiny synth-pop cocktail bar above. Some fans might mutter that Pete Cafarella and Nate Smith have gone soft, and they’ll go out and buy the latest Enter Shikari offering instead. Which would be a shame (though obviously not for Enter Shikari) because, after a few listens, they might have found themselves growing as attached to this indefinable chunk of retro wonder as they are to its older brother....full text |
| Drownedinsound |
| If in the past Shy Child have been regarded as peripherals of the Noughties electro movement, then it’s often down to the fact that the Brooklyn-duo have willfully taken steps to tread a different line from many of their contemporaries. When Justice and Digitalism were tearing up Europe’s calendar of dance festivals in the summer of 2007, Pete Cafarella and Nate Smith were supporting those most uncool modern rock behemoths Muse, at Wembley Stadium. That year’s Noise Won’t Stop, meanwhile, eschewed the floor-filling stylings of their chart-storming peers in favour of sparser, R&B-influenced cuts of spiky cohesion. It comes as some surprise then that the group’s fourth album Liquid Love is a relatively straight down the centre affair. The jagged rawness of old is almost completely gone - only ‘Criss Cross’ stutters with the stark jerkiness of their previous work, and at over seven minutes even this nod to their former selves has been transfigured. What we get in replacement is gloss- the type of sparkly radio-friendly sheen that oozes commercial appeal. Make no mistake, this is Shy Child’s hedonism album; far from the drive and edge that characterised their previous three, they’ve instead uncoupled themselves from their progression completely, and taken upon it to inhabit a world of sun-kissed synth-pop and, erm, Fleetwood Mac. Yes, it’s a sample of the veteran rockers ‘Everywhere’ that opens up Liquid Love, a direct signpost as to what to expect from the proceeding ten tracks. Shimmering electronic pirouettes and infectious house-rhythms underpin their admission that “I’ve turned off my mind” - something the listener is obviously being encouraged to do as well. There’s no real depth here, but then there’s no pretense that there should be; this LP wants nothing more than some chemical enhancement and a shimmy across the dance floor which, when delivered with such openness, is a frequently joyful experience. ‘Disconnected’ is perhaps the best example of this: a wonderfully infectious four minutes of juddering burbles, falsetto vocals and dumb melodies that prod and niggle at your brain and feet alike. ‘The Beatles’ meanwhile is delightfully silly fluff, an unashamed slice of finest club cheese that adds on layer upon layer of sickly sweet syrup; and lest we forget the aforementioned ‘Criss Cross’- a seven minute opus of reverberating Eighties percussion and whirring electronics, it wouldn’t seem out of place on Sonic the Hedgehog....full text |
Shy Child lyrics
|
| ||||||||||
