MOGstars - 9/10

In many ways George Pringle's debut album is the ultimate paean to art school pretension. Pieced together on Garage Band, the ever-so-pretty and ever-so-posh English rose layers seductively enunciated spoken word over coarse electo-punk beats, creating a soundtrack to skinny lattes, Sartre and post-ironic moustaches. Yet whilst it may be easy to dismiss her as one for the hipsters and the posers, to discount Salon de Refuses would be a grave mistake.

After a brief introduction of funky dancefloor minimalism, We Could Have Been Heroes jolts the listener awake with screeching Theremins, into a post house-party haze. Emerging into a stream of consciousness the listener is bathed in ethereal tales of suburban parties and elegant poetic constructions - a simple "boy, girl/boy, girl/boy girl" evokes random hook-ups, whilst a whimsical "you don't have to work at HMV/when you write so beautifully" betrays an naïve upper-middle class ambition. More up beat is the galloping Lcd, I Love You But You're Bringing Me Down, an anthem for the simultaneously hopeful and depressed twenty-something, punctuated by Pringles mantras for a better life as she vows herself of snakebite, gin & tonics and "dance floor politics". This track exudes the elation and resolve of a semi-sober 2am declaration of self-improvement in a way that will raise everyone's glasses.

More introspective moments also appear on the album, with lead single Carte Postale an epic work of post-break-up introspection. As Pringle documents her descent and wallowing before rising again into the party scene she displays a keen lyrical talent. Percussive alliteration and evocative imagery sit alongside nods to Virtua Streetfighter, seedy clubs and alcoholic lethargy. Likewise the slow-burning S.W.10 in which the album reaches its stripped back climax of beeps, blips and synthed handclaps, sets fancy-dress pub-crawls alongside self-destructive moping and urban decay.

Indeed it is easy to get distracted by the lyrics of Salon… and ignore Pringle's forte for songcraft. Just as she her mastery of wordplay creates intricate and delicate modern poetry, so too do her mixing and sampling skills form an arresting sonic texture. Subtly weaving together elements of trance, funk and other more minimalist genres, Pringle creates the perfect background to her verse compositions. The album is thus borne out of a coalescence of intellectualism and fun. Whilst both musically and linguistically Pringle is a master of her art, producing brilliantly textured creations in which meaning and form interplay perfectly, she is also a knowing product of pop-culture. Wry allusions are made to Donna Summer, The Ramones, My Bloody Valentine and numerous other influences, betraying a playfulness which many listeners will find charming. So whilst Salon de Refusal's merger of poetic innovation and minimalist dance music may at first alienate all but the most self-assuredly urbane, the dream-like insubstantialness of it all is invested with more than pretension. The varied nature of the tracks, from the dark bass of Sparkomatic Miami to the ten minute electro odyssey which is Bonjour Tristesse avoid any hint of self-indulgence and rescues the album from becoming an arty dirge.

Ultimately whilst the record may at times seem inaccessible; and it is definitely an album which requires its own peculiar time and space to appreciate it, it is an accomplished debut. Musically it fuses the dancefloor joy of Little Boots with the approach of more niche artists such as Prinzhorn Dance School, all the while covered with Pringle's own brand of effective beat poetry. The result is often beguiling, at times confusing, and addictively attractive. Not really a record for a night out, invest the right amount of energy in Pringle, and you may find (like her namesake), once you pop, you just can't stop.