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The Corrections, signed to EMI, are a London indie five-piece who have their sights set high, and with songs as catchy and effortlessly hook laden as Barcode, who can blame them?
The opening delay-ridden, attention-seeking guitar riff is a call to arms for the listener to prepare for aural attack, with intricate, and downright fucking cool guitar riffery, a pounding rhythm section, and an ice cool, melancholy vocal delivery comparable to the hybrid of Starsailor's James Walsh and Ima Robot's part vocalist, part mentalist Alex Ebert.
The Corrections make it sound easy. Barcode is a powerful slice of indie cake, devoid of pretence and bandwagon-jumping and substanceless piss, and proves that the British indie music scene stands defiant despite an increasingly tricky period of pretence and bandwagon-jumping and substanceless piss.
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