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Exploring the dichotomy of the breezy versus the inconsequential, Trash Kit return with a Chinese burn of an album; an irritable clenched fist whose precise form fades from the mind sharply after the first violent gasp, leaving only a nagging footnote.

Trash Kit's constituent performers dabble in half a dozen other projects, which must leave them in something of a daze as they ride the tube from venue to venue, barely able to remember which identity they're meant to be assembling that night. Proud proclaimers of a DIY aesthetic, they revel in spontaneity and the desire to achieve beauty almost by accident. It can lead to a frustrating listen.

Confidence has an air of transience and impatience writ large through its short running time. Most of these tracks centre-stage a riff, adding nicely pitched accompaniment before riding down something of an ideological cul-de-sac. There isn't a single memorable, 100% complete song here, more a loose approximation of elements that should make for an interesting listen.

The central problem is that spontaneity, like comedy, is most successful not when it is truly inspirational but when it is strict discipline managing to masquerade as such. There is a fair amount of musical skill here, but the most enjoyable moments of Confidence (particularly the pretty 'Leaves') are those allowed simplistic Pop elements, as with the depth of conjoining vocal harmonies. Efforts like 'Hair' and 'Boredom' resemble shiftless Gang Of Four parodies.

You get the feeling that Trash Kit's ambition sometimes outstrips their patience, particularly on the disappointingly asinine 'Boredom', which begins with the assuredness of a sleight of hand and ends in a disappointingly weak noise-outro. My Grey Horse's I Still Don't Understand from earlier this year attempts the same ploy, and does so with a great deal more success, mostly because it feels like it has been lovingly assembled rather than just bashed out. You just want Trash Kit to spend a little more time with their songs rather than deserting them as they still gurgle in the cradle. 'Cheshire Cat' could be a tidy piece of melancholia with a little work. As it is, it flashes past like so much of this album.

A misconception and fetishisation of DIY is at least partly to blame for the album's shortcomings. The so-called DIY 'aesthetic' has been tainted in recent years by over use and under-development. Most independent debuts are DIY efforts - it's the basis of the supra-grassroots music industry that we all live in. The term DIY has, in some quarters, unfortunately now taken on the tint of something which is basic, reducing the skill of creating something that sounds stellar from a pallet made up of cast-off paint pots. Getting simple, childlike indie pop right is incredibly difficult.

That said, Confidence is not a terrible album. It doesn't take itself seriously enough to achieve the self-satisfied plateau of the untalented. If it lacks anything, and it does, it is the sense that everyone involved is fully focused on the task in hand, and not just paying it lip service.

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