Yuck. Maybe it’s a case of pearls before my inner swine, but I just don’t feel I need another big tall glass of these 20-something lovers amateurishly strumming their guitars and wasting their youth in my face. The quiet-loud-quiet shoegaze-twee setup here is a British girl and an American guy, no drums, no bass, no panache, about as much style as a Gwyneth Paltrow duet, and even more importantly, little in the way of substance, unless your idea of substance is listening to a pair of half-asleep Bonnaroo rejects blather on and on, essentially about how complicated it is to be college-age and good-looking (“All I wanna do is talk, cuz seeing you f--ks me up” — come on marine, lemme see your angst face!). There’s certainly a klunky romanticism on offer, sure, and it’s unique in that you can file this right between your My Bloody Valentine and Bon Iver albums for convenience’s sake, but there’s no range of sound at all — they don’t harmonize, and only occasionally try counterpoint on for size. We get it, you saw Juno, but let’s be honest, that movie contained no real evidence that people naturally gravitate toward existential mediocrity. C+ —Eric W. Saeger