So Film School may not be mind-blowingly fresh. At times, singer Krayg Burton may sound like the love child of Robert Smith and Thurston Moore. But when the mood strikes them, they kick and scream onstage like an ADD kid in the candy aisle. And moody they do seem to be. From shoegazing to psych-pop, these boys have obviously studied their heroes' tricks.
The result, while not entirely original, is disarmingly beautiful. Burton's often detached vocal delivery, set against the warm, sweeping orchestration and arrangements that ebb and flow effortlessly from restraint to maelstrom and back again, feels nearly dreamlike. Film School's music is fluid and experimental while maintaining regard for the audience's attention span. From every wall of sound emerges a rhythmic pulse, a beating heart.