Andy Lane of No Title Magazine had this to say of I dreamt we were bank robbers (available very soon on iTunes):

It's a brave band that hails its major influences as Shastakovich and Beethoven. Some will applaud the righteous intentions of classically trained musicians grappling with electric sounds. Others will sigh at the weary pretension of an act that takes its name from an ancient Neapolitan city where 'the tarantula's deadly sting is curable by diverse forms of music.' Others still might question why it is that anyone should care.

So consider this your reason: Tarentum are fucking ace. With airplay on Kiss FM, Chill Radio and the Coca-Cola new music podcast, the real world is slowly tuning in to the BREATHTAKING (our caps - obviously) poise and beauty of 'I Dreamt We Were Bank Robbers': An album conceived and written for the most part by Tom Sidebottom and Jesse O'Mahoney and recorded with the aid of a phalanx of collaborators.

Their depth is often ASTOUNDING (yeah, us again), as Rob McVey's Spanish guitar bathes tracks like 'Cold' in a melancholic glow while vocalists Emma Sargison and Becka Ward are sultry, cool and hauntingly fragile. From one track to the next, flirtatious beats melt away into wispy, intrusive numbers that drift effortlessly above creeping backing tracks. 'Did you notice?' Sargison chimes on the track of the same name, but with such careful craftsmanship committed to record, it's all but impossible to turn away. Originally an acoustic piece, 'Tides' sashays slowly and sensuously like Morcheeba caught in the dizzying peak of a blissful ecstasy rush. While 'The Levels' is all about attitude - broody, tense and sullen - the title track sees Tarentum break out into full-grown classical melodies with yearning lyrics propelled skywards by chiming pianos and sweeping strings. A love song almost too delicate to touch, 'Babydoll Loose' achieves emotional resonance with ease.

Elsewhere, the experimentation takes hold amidst a collision of violins, guitars, xylophones, synths and vocoders. 'Bitten Dirt' desperately wants to grow up to become a flat out club track until it remembers the company it's in and tries to affect an air of intelligent restraint (it fails, but gloriously so). 'Peace' is refreshingly lo-fi and almost, almost strays into what you might call hip hop territory with staccato violins inciting an itch-inducing hook. Buoyed by the strength of the work they've created, the writers themselves take vocal duties on 'Philharmonic Bubbles': the kind of gorgeously fuzzy electronic ballad that's destined to crop up somewhere on an independent film soundtrack and send the masses scurrying to the nearest online store. Their majestic, ethereal sound is the antithesis of commercial, but with the album available soon through the multi-media meat market commonly known as iTunes, there are worse ways you could pledge your allegiance.