Everything about this North Ealing trio is built for size. 'To Lose My Life' kicks off in widescreen Arcade Fire-meets-Coldplay mode, and doesn't let up.
Like Editors and the Killers, White Lies are blatantly Eighties-influenced (the long-coated, mulleted epic stuff). Typically, the bassline patiently pounds the root note, patiently waiting for the big heroic guitar chord to come in, followed by the reverb-drenched stadium-friendly riff, and finally Harry McVeigh arrives, his handsome baritone swelling to a Julian Cope blare.
Seemingly suffering the delusion that he's a windswept romantic poet, McVeigh's lyrics tend towards trite and banal Simple Minds-isms ("I wonder what keeps us high up/Could there be love beneath these wings?").
In fairness, the subject matter is often dark: suicide and self harm, hospitals and funerals. And the music has its moments (notably the crystalline keyboards on the chorus of "Fifty on Our Foreheads").
Summer after next, they'll be festival headliners. Love it or hate it, this lot are going all the way.
Pick of the album: The debut single: 'Unfinished Business'