Rochelle's demo of broken down, disjointed electro pop isn't as generic as I first believed. Spanning from Vogue-age Madonna to.um.The Pipettes, 80s mixes are blended with modern sterilised switches and spasms; the creation is four tracks that seem to pay homage to chart-topping women and their accompanying determinism; and despite the fact that Rochelle is a four piece, it is very much the more than capable female vocalist Lydia that defines what this revisionism is all about.
For better or worse, she moulds her voice to practically any variant of body twitching electro that straddles the generations; am I listening to Gwen Stefani? Who are you? What am I? And so the cycle of delusion and confusion spirals. Whatever it is, there's no denying that this is not simply mindless crap that makes you feel like zoning out if you ever heard it at Barfly.