Expectations be damned. The Clips could care less what anybody thinks a rock band should sound like these days. Hell, it’s 2008, and computers are taking over the world, so why not the dancefloor too, right? Armed with a modified-to-hell G3, a baby grand, and a whole slew of synths, Edo Van Breemen and his cohorts in The Clips (not be confused with the smiliarly-named, dope-pushing Virginian duo of Pusha and Malice, although we’d pee our pants for a collabo) create a world of noisey squelches, strangled 1s and 0s, and clattering drums bolstered by an insistent piano lurch, a few guitars, and Breemen’s melancholic voice. Having shared stages with Holy Fuck and Metric, and with a brand new record, Matterhorn, clutched firmly to their bosoms, the quintet seems primed for their unlikely close-up. Just peep the sullen, deceivingly-dense “Wire” for proof.