When putting on Confetti, it’s like stepping into a carnival. There’s an atmosphere within this record that allows you to picture a foreign island, with samba drums playing, a frenzy of colours welcoming you. This probably sounds vaguely similar to the visual experience you might get from a Friendly Fires record, but on A Lull’s debut it’s less in your face, more teasing and inviting.

It’s the kind of record that you’d expect to light up an audience, regardless of their familiarity with A Lull. Reportedly, that’s been the case recently, with the quintet winning over un-fussed crowds during their tour support slot for Cold War Kids. And yet, whilst it might flourish in a tightly-packed, barely-lit venue, it suffers somewhat in the setting of a commute to work with nothing but industrial factories and glum faces to stare at. A Lull seem to be one of many bands troubled by the process of transferring their raucous live energy into a listenable collection of tracks. Quite frankly, Confetti comes across as overwhelming at first; so thick are its waves of percussion that help in defining the album.

Post-teething problems however, you find yourself in a trance-like state, hypnotised by its intensity. Vocals act as an instrument, ratter-tatter-ing for opener ‘Weapons For War’, warped to sound like a backing track in ‘Sideman’. The percussion is irreplaceable throughout; a constant amongst the Chicago group’s playful experimentations. According to mythology, a good 75 tracks were written before hands were tied and a record had to be made, and yet you’d be forgiven for thinking that Confetti was the product of one seamless, post-midnight recording session. Amongst it all is ‘Phem’, a psychedelic homage to free spirits, reciting a “summer of love”, vocals chanting “we play games with our bodies in a good way”, taking you to this carnival I mentioned at the very beginning.

“Keep me in line” goes the mantra of ‘White Girl’, and yet it’d be a pointless activity trying to force A Lull into an orderly fashion. Even closer ‘Atyche’ fails to finish on a soft, sedated note; it’s as care-free as the ten songs that precede it. Nothing here is bottled up or done by half measure. Think about every time you’ve wanted to immerse yourself in the sheer energy and force of an album, now take a look at Confetti and give yourself an experience.