The New Classic
Few bands combine the sublime and the ridiculous quite so seamlessly as Enter Shikari.
Loved by over-earnest sixth-formers and patronised as mildly ridiculous by the older demographic, the St Albans screamcore band's third album is likely to solidify existing prejudices.
Despite its horribly clunky title, A Flash Flood Of Colour is musically proficient and thrilling. Adrenaline-driven thrashes such as Sssnakepit and Search Party are as sleek, streamlined and exciting as the band's idols: first-generation US hardcore punks such as Fugazi and Minor Threat.
Sadly, Enter Shikari die a little death every time singer Rou Reynolds picks up his lyrical pen. Their Lisa Simpson-esque worldview has failed to evolve since they emerged as angry teenagers, and temper tantrums such as Pack Of Thieves get no more nuanced than, well, war is bad and the system sucks.
They throw in everything and the kitchen sink: the Muse-like epic Arguing With Thermometers features throat-scorching metal growls, perky Estuary English rapping and dubstep bass wobbles before Reynolds takes world leaders to task for their Big Oil-dependency: "What happens when it's all gone? You haven't thought this through, have you, boys?"
There are welcome flashes of humour: the group pause the epic rant of Gandhi Mate, Gandhi to urge their incandescent singer to calm down. Yet mostly, Enter Shikari still sound like a band who need to grow into their noise.