Five seconds into White Rose Movement's second single and I wonder if I have the wrong CD in my stereo. The intro could (and, really, should) be the menu music for the latest FIFA video game. With the first stab of cold, hard synth, I'm jolted back to reality; and a harsh one at that.

Theirs is a brittle, industrial take on electro-pop, all pogoing bass and schizophrenic beats. With a singer whose casually alluring, not to mention heavily treated, vocals sound like a cross between Shirley Manson and Saffron from Republica (remember them?), White Rose Movement could easily be 1984's house band.

Indeed, Orwell himself would probably appreciate their sparse, desolate sound. There are guitars in here somewhere, but the ubiquitous Paul Epworth does his best to hide them deep within the drone. In the same way that Barry White provides a soundtrack for lovemaking, this is just about perfect for crashing your car to.