Scam Avenue is like dancing and crying at the same time.

              
Drum machines pulsate; synths weave in and out; jangly guitars attack then drown in unexpected whirlpools of noise. Voices—at once glacial and lovelorn—float on top of it all, reverberating like a half-remembered dream.

You can hear echoes of of the new-wave melancholy of New Order, the Spectorized pop of St. Etienne, and the minimalist art-funk of Can (among others) but in the end the sound of Scam Avenue is their own

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