Faded Glory (No 759)

Hometown: LA. The lineup: Elliot Reubens (vocals, guitar), Sue Ivanovich (bass, vocals), Gary Finkler (synths), Bill Brookstein (drums). The background: We were going to write about a new signing to Domino today called Villagers but they'll have to wait. They're good an' all, but nothing that won't keep till after the weekend. Seventy-two hours is a lifetime in pop and we're just dying to tell you about these little beauties. Some things are just too great to savour alone, plus we're feeling magnanimous. The point of this column is most forcibly not to hang around. The point of it is to be first, to be fast, and let everyone else choke on our dust. And we don't keep secrets. The Drums? When we told you about them when they were still called the Membraneous and we had to talk frontman Jonathan Pierce off a very high windowsill in Williamsburg. And Ellie Goulding was still dressed in her Lady Hawkins High uniform (she was 21 at the time and going through a "schoolgirl chic" phase). Can you sense the breathless urgency of our missive today? Can you feel the spittle? Sorry about that. We get carried away sometimes. Use a hygiene wipe. You're going to need to douse yourselves down after you read what we have to say about Faded Glory, a Cali band who take the bleached-boy synth-funk of Washed Out to the nth degree (Nth Degree? It's a club next door to the Smell's HQ). There, we said it. There will be no wavering from us today, unless it's of the "chill" variety. Yup, Faded Glory are chillwave boys (and one girl) – not that you'll be able to tell as much from the solitary photo they've posted online – Faded Glory are in less of a hurry to announce themselves than we are. For them it's all about the slow-build and the circuitous word-of-mouth expressway to yr skulls. So forgive us, Elliot Reubens and Co, but patience is not one of our virtues. Not when the music is this fine, this suffused with springtime sorrow and the melancholy promise of expectations dashed. Faded Glory are a four-piece who play the part of the forlorn laptop wunderkind, with layers of synth piled so high you could use them as pillows and bass, guitar and drums adding filigree and shadow (and other 4AD album titles from 1986). The songs speak – or rather, weep – for themselves: Tie Dye Dry, Helpless Hopeless, July Skies, Taint It Black ... You'll be humming these exquisite epiphanies from now until the end of time, or the end of summer, whichever comes first. If, that is, you can make out the words, which, at a guess, say powerfully poignant things about the ineffable sadness of the human condition and the terrible beauty of our lives. Record company ladies and gentlemen bearing Blackberrys and cheque books – please form an orderly queue. The buzz: "Faded Glory will make you forget about Memory Tapes." The truth: You might have to spend a fair chunk of your weekend scouring the net to find info about them, but mark our words – you'll be thanking us when you do. Most likely to: Make fools out of their peers. Least likely to: Be confused with Neil Young's Ragged Glory. What to buy: Nothing yet – but watch out for Faded Glory's debut album in all the end-of-year polls. File next to: Washed Out, Toro Y Moi, Small Black, Jose Feliciano. Links: myspace.com/stitcheduplikeakipper Tuesday's new band: Villagers.