Dancing Across the Pond

We may never be able to escape the teen pop crud; they fade into barbiturate heaven or grow up into something hardened by ridicule and the industry. Newcomer U.K. duo The Ting Tings come from the same dirty gene pool of trice tried acts hell bent on getting their due. And they’ve set their playful lyrics and pop rock sound sights to dominate the eardrums of every American teenager on their stateside debut album We Started Nothing. Hell have no fury like an English pop band scorned.

Nothing is cute and catchy, everything the Ting Tings need to be to permeate our heads with sugar-sweet beats.  Look no further than glucose burner ‘That’s Not My Name’ as it burrows into your brain and settles there until you give in and start belting out the lyrics in a public place. It will happen. Its five minutes of guilty pleasure and thirty-three more of ramped up pop indulgence - if you can stomach it. From the Blondie toned ‘Be The One’ to ‘Great DJ’s break beats and harmonies, lead Katie White is set to make girl power hot again.

Obviously there would be drawbacks to this sound.  It turns into the punk equivalent of Cher from Clueless. White’s voice, as adorable as it can be, doesn’t have the street cred to back up her brat 70s Brit and American rocker girl attitude. Where they were screaming into microphones with fury, White bounces tamely around. Her mild croons in ‘Impacilla Carpisung’ reverts to gimmicky layers - something that often plagues the albums better offerings - while the gassy hooks of ‘Fruit Machine’ feel like a new wave forgotten remake from Kylie Minogue’s. There is no denying that We Started Nothing has some staying power stateside, but they’ll have to up their game and move on from their reliance on poppy dance beats ridiculously masked in raw guitar grooves to keep wowing us.

Amy Dittmeier