New York duo The Ropes evoke a monochrome era in which feelings of isolation and disillusionment are indulged by bands who skulk around the stage, clad in black, bemoaning their existence with words that betray poetic aspirations. Straddling the gamut between New Wave and Post-Punk, "Love is a Chain Store" cites all the usual suspects, from Robert Smith, to Interpol.

The title track encapsulates a sense of despondency so prevalent in the music it seeks to replicate, its stark programmed beats allows Sharon Shy’s bass so much room, it practically rattles. The lyrics also strike a suitably solemn chord, ruminating on themes of neurosis and paranoia while the vocal itself is cool and detached. Shy’s deliberate phrasing is a certain tribute to troubled chanteuse Nico:

“They're driving us out/We’re closing up shop/Lonely is the mom and pop”

With the repetition of each last line the words assume a mantra-like quality and are delivered in such a way that you can almost hear the flaxen haired German singing them herself. The deceptively simple guitar motif that echoes throughout the song is so insistent that it haunts the memory long after the record has run its course; and with a chorus that first appears nearly three quarters of a way through you know this isn’t going to be a run-of-the-mill pop record.

‘Civil Lanterns’ lures the listener into a false sense of security with a metronomic beat that hypnotizes with its gentle "thud thud" rhythms. The soothing melody floats above a simple folky guitar, recalling the Velvet Underground’s quieter moments before the song suddenly explodes into life, a wash of distorted synths accompanied by the rather sinister refrain: “I run for my life” - Subversive stuff.

The problem with “Love is a Chain Store” is that it never quite surpasses the sum of its influences. The brooding numbers seem a little bit too premeditated, lacking the urgency that made much of The Cure’s early output so enthralling; and Shy’s voice, although perfectly pleasant, just doesn’t have the character to pull off the quiet, contemplative songs like closing track ‘A Lot You Can Learn in a Room.'


A flawed record that seems slightly more concerned with rock and roll posturing than solid composition, “Love is a Chain Store” is still an interesting diversion, employing just enough pop tricks to keep the listener hooked.