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Ok, so first off I must iterate the fact that this particular run down is in no particular order, nor is it a definitive list of the best British record labels of all time (as if such a breakdown could ever be truly quantified). It is simply a list of some personal favourites within the British...MORE>>

The bass chugs tonelessly under a thread of high-pitched synth and hi-hat – and that’s White Lies. They unite gloom and childlike wonder in Death, a stirring, introspective, five-minute epic of a song that I predict will be featured on soundtracks to multitudinous films about severely-fringed indie waifs running through derelict industrial estates in the coming year. But has their sound ‘got a hold on me’?

Well, the band’s debut album went straight into the UK charts at number 1 last week, so at least they’ve got their claws into the rest of the country. It doesn’t take an encyclopaedic knowledge of music to figure out that White Lies are familiar territory. They sound like Joy Division meets The Cure, Interpol meets The Arcade Fire or U2 meets Echo and the Bunnymen, and the resulting

melange ends up reminding you of The Editors. Oh dear.

Fascinatingly, in a previous incarnation, bassist and lyricist Charles Cave, drummer Jack Brown, and singer Harry McVeigh, fresh-faced 19/20-year-olds who hail from Chiswick, via Ealing, were a tongue-in-cheek, colourfully-attired pop band called Fear of Flying. They had a taste of success – landing a record deal and releasing a couple of singles. But their fortunes waned. In an effort to improve their sound and their standing in the biz, the trio reinvented themselves as a black-clad, atmospheric arena rock band, an English Glasvegas. Success swiftly followed.

Death’s lyrics combine descriptions of a poetic, strange, night-time world with feelings of dread and helplessness. It is an internal monologue in song form. Singer Harry McVeigh’s low, rich, reverb-heavy baritone is convincing, though he does yowl when he hits the high notes. Judicious use of effects enables what is actually quite a straightforward track to remain compelling throughout. We get a juxtaposition of angular guitar chords and ghostly synths in the first verse, but in the second verse we are greeted by sweet, rhythmic keyboard, thudding drums and fluttering hi-hat. It is simple stuff, aimed at building the tension and drama until the chorus, a crashing wave of guitar noise with synth countermelodies whooshing away on top, finally hits your eardrums.

I like Death. I think it’s got the potential to be a hit. It balances the band’s sullen gothic underbelly with a shiny synth coating, and is that rare beast, an indie tune that works on the dancefloor. But there’s no need for White Lies to be derivative. Their lyrics are impressive, but their sound is not. They have been tipped for the top, named a BBC Sound of 2009 and featured on the NME tour, but my fear is that their material is not strong enough to see them go the distance.