Credit: Dangerous Minds / Domino Recording Co

How happy are you that the absolute shite you concocted in your first punk band will never see the light of day?

Perhaps you never recorded anything, and it never got out of the rehearsal room? Perhaps you did put a few videos on YouTube before taking them down in a fit of panic when you realised a prospective employer might see them? Perhaps you were unfortunate enough to get a few column inches written about you and have all the copies of the NME you were featured in stashed in your parents’ basement. Though you’re still waking up in a blind panic that there’s photographic evidence of you trying the ‘Blochead’ haircut for the first time.

If you can relate to any of this (and I certainly fucking can), spare a thought for Devonté Hynes, known today as Blood Orange. Not only is he an incredible singer-songwriter in his own right, but he’d written and produced with everyone who’s anyone in the world of pop music. From Mariah Carey and the Sugababes to Turnstile and FKA Twigs, Hynes has been a man in demand as one of the most tasteful, musically empathetic songwriters and producers around.

He also has a history. Before Blood Orange was the mildly misguided alt-country phase as Lightspeed Champion, but before that is when we’re really getting the baby photos out – Hynes made a name for himself in his first band way back in 2004, and in fact, he was one of the leading lights of the nu-rave movement in a band with one of the worst names to ever come from the 2000s British indie scene, which was a scene that gave the world Joe Lean and the Jing Jang Jong as well, yet it still stands out.

I’ll give them this much, though, at least Test Icicles is a memorable name. Probably a bit too memorable for Hynes’ liking.

What even were Test Icicles?

I’m making the band seem like some blight on society, and to be clear, they absolutely weren’t. They were actually a pretty entertaining mix of sasscore, synths and yelping, estuary-accented lyrics. They were a damn site better than the likes of Does It Offend You, Yeah? who came after them. The key problem is one that seems obvious when you consider it from this angle. From the name downwards, Test Icicles were a joke. Again, not a comment on their quality either, they were in the most literal fashion they could be, a joke.

Nothing about them was meant to be taken seriously, and yet there they were, selling out the Astoria on the back of songs called things like ‘Circle. Square. Triangle’, ‘Party on Dudes (Get Hype)’ and ‘Totally Re-Fucked’. By the time they got to that level, one could tell the joke had worn thin, and every single one of them hated being in Test Icicles with a passion. By 2006, the band are talking about being in the band like it’s a profound form of mental torture.

They say things in interviews like “We never intended to last for more than two weeks, so it’s kind of annoying and frustrating that it’s going on so long”… They talk about gigging in Japan by saying, “I wish I didn’t have to go, but it’s a job, I guess… I was really shit for me, but the other guys probably liked it.” When asked about writing a new record, each laughed hysterically before saying “No” about five times each. True to their word, the band split up after releasing their debut, and each of them seemed dead set on talking about Test Icicles as little as possible afterwards.

Each band member seemingly went on to more satisfying projects afterwards, not just Hynes, so here’s hoping that the remaining members of the band have a few more positive memories of the group today. After all, to paraphrase Craig Finn, it’s a lot easier to understand 20 when you’re 40 than when you’re 20. Perhaps today, Hynes can look back on it as just a joke, rather than a joke that got too out of hand.