2:54 - 2:54

It's fair to say that 2:54 are a band who've toured with all the right people (Wild Beasts, Yuck, Warpaint) and set tongues wagging throughout the music press - and for good reason. Over the past two years, sisters Hannah and Colette Thurlow have developed an irresistible sound that's now come to fruition on their self-titled debut. Without wishing to make you think that I think 2:54 is a formulaic record, the recipe for its success is pretty clearly laid out over the course of its ten tracks - take some mesmerising guitar and bass riffs, some rock-steady drumming, add Colette's sultry vocals into the mixture and then enjoy the delicious results. So what's stopping the band from collapsing under the weight of repetition?

The key to the album's success is the different ways its sonic concoction seeps into your mind. Sometimes, it's a seductive siren-song, as on lead single 'You're Early', which beckons and tantalises with words unspoken ("I just wanna be close..." - the sentiment all the more powerful for remaining unfinished). Sometimes it's confident and imposing, as evidenced by the dark, driving swagger of 'Sugar', which rapidly progresses a relationship from "Hey stranger, what's your name?" all the way to "And now I know you're mine," within the space of a minute and a half. Sometimes the band's music hangs in the air like an intoxicating haze, like the spectral notes that echo through 'Scarlet's menacing fuzz. Elsewhere, the haze parts to reveal a picture of beautiful desolation, as on 'A Salute', whose galloping toms and sparkling guitar lines are evocative of a starlit wasteland.

The record also does a good job of subtly touching on emotions. It's able to conjure up dreamlike images, or troubling nightmares - the former comes via 'Circuitry's breathy vocals and expansive instrumentation, the latter via 'Creeping's harsh guitar stabs and panicked chorus ("You pause, I turn/You pull, I part/I can't afford to stop now.") 'Revolving' is evocative of being caught up in a whirlwind of passion, gradually ramping up the intensity throughout as Colette loses herself in the chorus ("Suddenly surrender/Give it to you.") By contrast, swirling guitars and fragile vocals make 'Watcher' feel stark and fearful, while 'Ride's sinister minor key tones are detached and melancholy.

It's worth noting that the record doesn't really feel like it has a clearly defined end - and that's less an indication of sameness than a recognition of a well-realised aesthetic. A debut record as atmospheric and sensuous as 2:54 is perhaps intended to be listened to on repeat in a mesmeric haze - and were that to be your fate in some parallel circle of hell, I don't think you could find much to complain about.