It's an undeniable truth that viewing the 2006 video for Matt & Kim's 'Yea Yeah' will cure any physical disorder of psychic ailment you might have. It's the Brooklyn duo in a nutshell: deceptively goofy pop that cheers the soul through keyboard fizz, walloping drums, battered nerd vocals and hefty does of semi-nudity. They turn frowns upside down with unfashionable levels of gusto and grins, something rare and necessary in these harsh grey times.

Sidewalks, their third album, is awash with synthetic sounds beamed sideways from mainstream radio stations and testament to the band's obvious love of day-glo melody. Kim's Thumper-based drumming occasionally gets lost in the swirl; more often she slots nicely into colour patterns that take shiny noises and make them lo-fi and lovable through cheap production effects. Strong choruses dominate the first half: 'AM/FM Sound' and 'Cameras' revolve around singalong centres that are, respectively, daftly glorious and queasily stoic. Mid-paced opener 'Block After Block' is actually one of the album's weaker tracks, but still ends on a great pop moment, a defiant middle eight that kicks the song into double time to the finish.

Sidewalks also smuggles in one of the best tracks you'll hear all year; smack in the middle of the album, 'Where You're Coming From' is the sort of Goonies-never-say-die geek anthem that Matt's vocals are perfect for. Slowly, over ersatz strings and brass, the singer repeatedly conjures lines of solidarity, dreams and similar themes that really should make you sick in your mouth but instead they hit your heart brilliantly. A brief chorus, both members singing up to the sky, is just rubbing it in. Listen to this walking down the street and feel tall as buildings.

A couple of comparatively misfiring songs follow, including 'Northeast'; a track which aims for quiet reflection but doesn't quite hit it. Thankfully this lull is soon followed by two cracking tracks. 'Silver Tiles' is a further dose of the sadness of life being banished through musical group hugs, another chorus stretched out, head held high, while 'Ice Melts' slathers fake trumpet parps over chirpy keyboard farts, to healthily invigorating effect.

Sidewalks is as frustratingly imperfect and fleetingly brilliant as life can be. The highpoints are more important though, and this album has moments that crush bad days like flies. It's all you need.

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