After assembling in a windowless storage area deep within the Armory, a former military headquarters on the Upper East Side, ticket-holders were led through tunnels to a small, square room, built around a shallow pit where three unsmiling figures stood in near darkness: the guitarist and singer Romy Madley Croft, with dyed black hair in a geometric cut that fell over one eye; the bassist and singer Oliver Sim, a tall man with a blond Tintin forelock; and the boyish-looking d.j./drummer Jamie xx (né Smith), who stood behind a phalanx of samplers, keyboards, and percussion instruments.
For fifty minutes, the xx played a restrained, audaciously spare version of indie rock with a pronounced dance-music edge.
Many of the members are married and flirting but not all.
The majority are actually single, they just prefer the exciting casual sex lifestyle as it suits their needs better than a serious relationship.
Colored lights pulsed against the walls and the low ceiling as Madley Croft, in a black blazer, leggings, and boots, strode across the stage.Sim, swaying his bass in the air, faced off with her, in a pantomime of confrontation and retreat that could have been a lovers’ quarrel or a taunting seduction.The mood of almost uncomfortable intimacy seemed to prevent performers and audience from acknowledging one another; the band didn’t speak a word between songs, and the spectators didn’t applaud.Let’s be real here: I knew Romy Madley Croft played for our team when I first saw her.I try not to be stereotypical when it comes to who looks like they are a little queer (hipsters and Europeans fuck that up for me constantly), but I was born with a significant amount of gaydar that generally doesn’t steer me too far off course. Madley Croft, she’s the frontwoman of British trio the xx, who have gone from indie darlings to must-see mainstream in the last few years.They’re one of those acts that you know it’s an xx song when you hear it.