The 1975: I Like It When You Sleep, For You Are So Beautiful Yet So Unaware of It – review

You might just remember the gist of a 2011 single called What Makes You Beautiful, by One Direction. The girl was unaware she was beautiful – that’s what made her beautiful. The 1975 have leaned hard on the same sentiment for their long-awaited second album – a double, nearly – only their title takes a little longer to get to the point. Love Me, one of the 1975’s recent singles, meanwhile, leans even harder on another boy band, one with instruments – Duran Duran, circa Notorious. The 1975’s keen interest in boy bands and the 80s had already been touched on by their million-selling, self-titled debut album of 2013.

This time around, though, all the quips that the Wilmslow foursome should really have been called the 1985 are even more justified, such is the maximalist mood of white jackets with rolled-up sleeves. There’s even a staccato white funk ditty about cocaine called UGH!.

With his mop of Michael Hutchence hair, his semi-ironic leather trousers and slight air of Johnny Borrell, singer Matt Healy makes no apologies for the band’s prettiness, their pop ambitions, their self-aware derivations, or the sheer variety of the 1975’s latest output. People listen across genres, argues Healy, so his band ought to deliver that breadth.

Consequently, I Like It When You Sleep tries to do it all – not just brash 80s funk and pop-house chant-alongs (The Sound, a withering look at a relationship), but shoegazey dream-pop (Lostmyhead), mawkish piano ballads (Nana, about Healy’s departed grandmother and the nonexistence of God) and gospel-tinged slow jams. The genuinely accomplished If I Believe You finds Healy’s loneliness climaxing in an understated sax solo.

“Everything’s been done,” pre-empts Healy bullishly in the press release; the 1975’s emphasis is on doing it better, with the previously unimaginable pixelation now standard in the studio, and with the chutzpah of their literate, livewire frontman greasing the faders.

In truth, the production here is polished, bonus points shared between Healy, drummer George Daniel and production collaborator Mike Crossey. The record gleams when played quietly – like the twitchy, blithe electronics of the title track – and strobes out loud (She’s American, an ode to the girls Healy has, um, partied with).

Somewhat inevitably, the 1975 are better at some genres than others. At 17 long and meandering tracks, most millennials are unlikely to listen to this album all the way through. They’ll be missing gems such as A Change of Heart and Somebody Else, when the 1975’s bug-eyed 80s lockjaw gives a little and the frailty at the heart of this record is allowed a clearer voice. But even though there are intriguing depths behind the 1975’s worship of surfaces, I Like It When You Sleep feels a little like what pop albums used to feel like – the hits, padded out by filler.