The lineup: Sedgie Ogilvy (vocals) and Max Heath (keyboards).
The background: Child Actor are a duo whose debut album Victory features a dozen electronic falling-in-and-out-of-love songs. However, any illusions or fantasies that they are a dubstep Dollar are dashed by the realisation that they are cousins. That's a shame, because it means we can't read their songs for covert references to each other, for signs of satisfaction or spite.
Of course, that pleasure – of knowing who the song is about – increases exponentially as the fame of the artist increases. That's partly why Fleetwood Mac's Rumours was so thrilling – was Go Your Own Way really a kiss-off from Lindsey to Stevie? The Human League's Dare album had a similar subtextual romantic layer as it emerged that Phil Oakey was involved with Joanne Catherall and Susan Ann Sulley. Although Sedgie Ogilvy and Max Heath can never provide that level of intrigue, and may remain a bloggers' delight, Victory is still a Rumours/Dare of an album in that it is very melodic and the songs deal with affairs of the heart. But it's also rooted, in terms of rhythm and production, in what is coming to be regarded as the second golden age of R&B, that late-90s/early-00s era when Timbaland, Dallas Austin and Rodney Jerkins made it cool to be jerky and singers such as Aaliyah and Mya provided a cool, controlled alternative to the more effusively emotional Whitney and Mariah.
Child Actor are one of those acts currently making a mockery of the idea of the big budget and the expensive studio: the tracks on Victory sound huge, lush and impressively "professional". Ogilvy and Heath are being credited with "breathing life into R&B" but they're hardly the first to reinvestigate and reinvigorate the genre – in fact, you could easily argue that, after How to Dress Well, the Weeknd, Grimes, Nite Jewel, Polica et al, indie-fying R&B is less a radical notion than an entirely outplayed one. But Child Actor do it well, incorporating elements of electronica from synth-pop to Skrillex. Ogilvy's vocals are often Auto-Tuned and only lightly melismatic, the rest of the time relying on a breathy whisper that is calculatedly wan. At times they sound like Kraftwerk fronted by a depressed Dusty. Saint Etienne, basically. The titles are familiar verging on shopworn (Release Me – what, again?), but that may be a deliberate bid to recontextualise old (original/60s) R&B tropes by placing them in a modern setting. Despite being in danger of drowning the listener in sugar, Heath is always at hand with an angular beat or a keyboard bloop to make sure things are never too saccharine. "Would you like to sleep with me?" Ogilvy sings at one point, which, given the proximity of her cousin, is more creepy than sweet. You might even say it's bizarre – Therese Bazaar.
The buzz: "Psychedelifunk under the kinetic moon" – MTV Iggy.
The truth: They treat R&B like a (Shirley) temple.
Most likely to: Give you back their heart.
Least likely to: Hold hands in black and white.
What to buy: Victory is released by Fake Four on 16 October.
File next to: Class Actress, Purity Ring, Grimes, Polica.
Wednesday's new band: Fever Fever.