When an album is proclaimed the frontrunner for the UK's Mercury Music Prize before it's even released, it's a sign of both the accelerated nature of the modern hype cycle as well as a vote of confidence in a band's ability to deliver the goods. That London Grammar have been the latest recipients of this sort of breathless anticipation shouldn't shock-- their influences are the kind of alternative-but-still-polite acts generally favored by the prize, and they were featured on "Help Me Lose My Mind", a highlight from Disclosure's Settle. But a cynic tempted to dismiss their downcast take on spacious, reverb-heavy pop as a calculated attempt to muscle into a sizzling market would miss out on an accomplished debut that belies the fact that this trio of Nottingham University alumni wrote and recorded their first song together less than a year ago.
That song-- the achingly slow-building "Hey Now"-- is a perfect encapsulation of London Grammar's sound. It begins with frostbitten chords which are soon joined by guitars that recall the xx at their most spectral and, eventually, Hannah Reid's vocals. Jessie Ware has often been invoked as a point of comparison, and both vocalists understand that restraint can be far more effective than constant demonstrations of strength. On "Hey Now", Reid's voice emerges as an elemental power that can clear entire fields, displaying an outward composure that always provides glimpses of a staggering vulnerability lurking just below the surface. This kind of range lets Reid come at any one line from multiple angles, which gives her obsession with the fallout from heartbreak a surprising amount of nuance. When she admits to "feeling shyer" at one point on the album, she sounds at once exhausted, confused, and defiant-- basically anything but shy-- and later in the song, when she advises a suitor content to send mixed signals and make half-plays for her heart that "maybe you should call her," it becomes a taunt rather than a desperate plea for attention.
There's always an emotional urgency in Reid's vocals-- she doesn't do low stakes. When producer Dot Major and guitarist Daniel Rothman find that musical equivalent to Reid's reserved sense of theatrics, the results are devastating. "Wasting My Young Years" starts off austere and picks up steam as it races toward a climax that never arrives-- at the precise moment you'd expect the song to launch into the stratosphere, it's yanked back to earth, satisfying through its refusal to meet our expectations. "I don't know what you want, don't leave me hanging on," sings Reid as the song disintegrates into pieces, but this kind of thread-dangling is London Grammar's strong suit. They can conjure emotions without hammering you over the head with them-- on the autumnal "Strong", Reid sings of being "wide-eyed and I'm so damn caught in the middle," plotting coordinates where romantic idealism and reality meet to disastrous results.
This no-man's-land between indecision and action is a common thread throughout these songs, even influencing Reid's approach to conflict. "We argue, we don't fight" she accuses on "Metal & Dust", making it clear she'd rather air things out in the moment than let resentment build. Major and Rothman wisely stay out of Reid's way when she locks her sights on a target, and they use their knack for dynamics to support her in subtle ways. They help elevate a cover of Kavinsky's "Nightcall" from filler to a vital peak in its emotional trajectory, stripping it of its fluorescence and ratcheting up its inherent melancholy a dozen notches. At points even a trip-hop influence can be heard, with Portishead-like breaks popping up on and injecting much-needed propulsion into moments that might otherwise wilt on their own.
Due to this emphasis on compositional restraint, If You Wait occasionally feels a little too homogeneous, a little too tidy. It's so uniform tonally that it sometimes approaches somnambulance, its negative space becoming a liability rather than a cleverly-used tool. Then again, London Grammar seem bright enough to know there's always room for improvement: "I've heard it takes some time to get it right" Reid opines on "Wasting My Young Years", but this trio already functions like a well-oiled machine, and they've produced a stylish debut that demonstrates both their immense talent and impressive instincts.
