“Power-glam cleverly shading alongside some of the best Britpop sounds to come out of our fair city and decade set this promising debut aside from all others.” This is what I said when the M’s subtle introductory mammoth charted 8th in my best of 2004. Aside from my questionable and pretentious use of “shading” as a verb, I would say this was pretty dead-on. The editors liked it too.

Generally speaking, when a friend asks me what to make of the M’s, who just finished a residency at Schubas, I invariably reply with that unpleasant trope of the defensively intellectual music critic: the analogy. You’ve seen them. If I were intending to write another one of those damnable reviews, I might include, “T-Rex’s vocals and glam triumphalism mated with a rhythmic sense that could place them in a club along the Hudson.”

Yes, truer words rarely spoken and all that. But can’t we come up with our own words? As a challenge, I will try and portray the M’s engaging take on the rock and the roll all on my lonesome.
Throbbing power chords snap the opener, “Plan of the Man,” into a fever pitch that hurtles inevitably towards “Mansion in the Valley” seven songs later. Sounding a lot like the slug-along power pop of their debut, the momentum continues unabated until song five. “Light I Love” allows the listener to peer into a chamber brimming with velvety violins to lead somehow into the titular march that needs none of the former track’s horns and violins to fulfill its electro-slashing ornate psychedelics. Textures pulsate, flow, ebb, stop, stutter, whack back apace like a rake against the forehead. All of a sudden, “Darling Lucia” trots along lively, making a last claim for your busy ear’s attention, tugging at its sleeve, begging for another listen. Of course you already have the disc on repeat, but then you notice that it’s Sunday night and time to get moving.

The M’s play a Sunday, May 28th at 9 PM, supporting the unfortunately named Deathray Davies.
“Future Women?” Lovely: 8.7/10.