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Deep in the bowels of Britain lies a factory that produces sturdy, cookie-cutter rock quartets, all shaggy hair and broad pop songs. The Kooks, an unimaginative yet appealing Brighton band, are but one offering, with traces of Franz Ferdinand, the Strokes and others channeled through charmed accents. Like so many of its peers, the group is a fashionable void—the musicians could walk through sand and leave nary a footprint. Opening is local quartet the Postelles, which draws on ’60s pop without pigeonholing itself in the era—’70s punk and ’90s alt rock flash through its self-titled album.
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