Some bands seem to exist just on the periphery of one's attention forever. A name you know you've seen many times, occassionally in association with some other artist you're fond of, or misattribute to a different act due to similarities. You may go decades never hearing a single song from them, or heard dozens without realizing it was them all along. In ye' olden days, the only way to get confirmation one way or the other was to scour the music shops, looking for any hints or clues that might trigger some memory synapses, spurring you further into actually listening to their catalogue, should the means and wants perfectly align. However, when I finally found out it was Cappella that was behind the line-up roll-call of the '90s Houson Rockets, I was disappointed to learn they didn't release much at all. Oh, and Stereolab is another such band, but at least they've released a whole lot more!
Primarily helmed by Tim Gane and Lætitia Sadier, the band has seen many members rotate in and out (including an unfortunate death), mostly serving whatever musical angle they wish to explore. And explore many they have indeed, carving out a lane in the nascent '90s scene of lo-fi indie rock and electro pop. At least, that's what I assumed going in, but that's barely scratching the surface. With nearly two decades worth of music making, they had plenty of time dabbling in whatever floated their fancy. Didn't know if it'd make for a good 'sportsing' soundtrack, but I've been pleasently surprised before. So let's dive in.
This was a bit of a weird one for me. I can't say I disliked anything I heard, but nor was I inspired to buy up a bunch of Stereolab records for personal use either. Which is a bit of a shame, because this is a band that needs more than one listen for their music to truly sink in, not the sort that can be shrugged off as 'one-and-done', as most acts in these surveying exercises are. I feel like I owe it to them to at least pick up Dots And Loops, since that album was kinda' the catalyst in all this, but that feels I'm doing them a disservice settling on just one. Ah well, there's plenty of time to continue mulling it over - it's not like their catalogue is going anywhere, right?
Anyhow, now that we're coming upon the one-year anniversary of this little gimmick (and of me getting back into shape ...holy cow!), I figure it's time to take on a talent that I've long included in Mastodon polls for surveys, but for some reason has always brought up the rear: Tipper!
Showing posts with label electro-pop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label electro-pop. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 15, 2023
Saturday, October 31, 2020
Skanfrom - Postcards
Suction Records: 2014
Do androids dream electric sheep? Well, I dunno about that, you'd have to ask hardcore Bladerunner fans for a definitive answer. Let's assume they do though. By that token, do androids dream of electric sheep out on British pastoral hillsides? Why would they dream of something so specific? Aren't dreams just weird, jumbled recollections of what we've done, with an added dash of what we want? Why would an android 'want' to do something so frivolous as take in the countryside, when all they're meant to do is all that they're meant to do? Could we even program an A.I. to do something like go on vacation? Not just create an itinerary and send it on its way, but to actually lollygag at the scenery, get side-tracked by random novelty, and distracted by whimsical flights of fancy.
I don't know if such notions were on Skanfrom's mind when creating this album, but Postcards sure feels like I'm watching some twee robot go on a euro road trip. It's all in that Kraftwerkian electro-pop vibe permeating throughout the album (shades of Autobahn and Europe Endless), sightseeing across quaint countrysides. Yet there's also something melancholic and lonesome here, as though this experimental automaton doesn't know what to make of its puzzling programming to wander about English lands. To say nothing of all the strange looks its receiving from the homo sapien crowds. Oh, to be back in the comforting confines of controlled labs, not out in the open, constantly bombarded by sensory stimuli, with no firm directive other than “to go forth”. Humanity is so puzzling.
I should touch upon who Skanfrom is. One Roger Semsroth (occasionally Stephan Metzger), the Skanfrom project started out in the late '90s as the sort of Rephlex-inspired electro-IDM you'd expect of a scene rediscovering electro. Mostly releasing stuff on his own A.D.S.R. print, a tidy retrospective was put out on Suction Records in their early years, after which Roger mothballed the name to pursue a lucrative venture into the realm of techno records. Okay, I don't know about 'lucrative', but as Sleeparchive, he had a pretty successful run making proper minimal techno (not that plink-plonk stuff), even getting a few items out on Tresor. Sleeparchive remains Mr. Semsroth's primary project, but on occasion he's dusted the mothballs off of Skanfrom for an EP or two. When Suction Records relaunched, ol' Rog' provided them with a fresh Skanfrom album as well, being this here Postcards. *whew* I think that's all caught up.
As said, this album is all about that sentimental electro-pop as performed on simple electronics. The 'pastoral English vacation' is heavily implied with track titles like Trains And Lines, Perseids Over Greenwich, British Cottages and Degrees Of Frost (chilly mornings on the moors, I wager), while others are reflective of supposed feelings of unfeeling entities (I Am Not Feeling Well, Lost And Lonesome, Are You Alone?). Scattered about are numerical tracks like Seven (track six), Six (track ten) and Aught (track five). Does... not... compute...
Do androids dream electric sheep? Well, I dunno about that, you'd have to ask hardcore Bladerunner fans for a definitive answer. Let's assume they do though. By that token, do androids dream of electric sheep out on British pastoral hillsides? Why would they dream of something so specific? Aren't dreams just weird, jumbled recollections of what we've done, with an added dash of what we want? Why would an android 'want' to do something so frivolous as take in the countryside, when all they're meant to do is all that they're meant to do? Could we even program an A.I. to do something like go on vacation? Not just create an itinerary and send it on its way, but to actually lollygag at the scenery, get side-tracked by random novelty, and distracted by whimsical flights of fancy.
I don't know if such notions were on Skanfrom's mind when creating this album, but Postcards sure feels like I'm watching some twee robot go on a euro road trip. It's all in that Kraftwerkian electro-pop vibe permeating throughout the album (shades of Autobahn and Europe Endless), sightseeing across quaint countrysides. Yet there's also something melancholic and lonesome here, as though this experimental automaton doesn't know what to make of its puzzling programming to wander about English lands. To say nothing of all the strange looks its receiving from the homo sapien crowds. Oh, to be back in the comforting confines of controlled labs, not out in the open, constantly bombarded by sensory stimuli, with no firm directive other than “to go forth”. Humanity is so puzzling.
I should touch upon who Skanfrom is. One Roger Semsroth (occasionally Stephan Metzger), the Skanfrom project started out in the late '90s as the sort of Rephlex-inspired electro-IDM you'd expect of a scene rediscovering electro. Mostly releasing stuff on his own A.D.S.R. print, a tidy retrospective was put out on Suction Records in their early years, after which Roger mothballed the name to pursue a lucrative venture into the realm of techno records. Okay, I don't know about 'lucrative', but as Sleeparchive, he had a pretty successful run making proper minimal techno (not that plink-plonk stuff), even getting a few items out on Tresor. Sleeparchive remains Mr. Semsroth's primary project, but on occasion he's dusted the mothballs off of Skanfrom for an EP or two. When Suction Records relaunched, ol' Rog' provided them with a fresh Skanfrom album as well, being this here Postcards. *whew* I think that's all caught up.
As said, this album is all about that sentimental electro-pop as performed on simple electronics. The 'pastoral English vacation' is heavily implied with track titles like Trains And Lines, Perseids Over Greenwich, British Cottages and Degrees Of Frost (chilly mornings on the moors, I wager), while others are reflective of supposed feelings of unfeeling entities (I Am Not Feeling Well, Lost And Lonesome, Are You Alone?). Scattered about are numerical tracks like Seven (track six), Six (track ten) and Aught (track five). Does... not... compute...
Friday, September 20, 2019
Hot Chip - The Warning
EMI: 2006
I can't look at this album and not think of a totally different release called The Warning. This particular Warning is a classic tech-step cut from Grooverider, operating under his Codename John alias, released on Metalheadz at the peak of tech-step's dominance. With its spacious sonics, flanged-out surf sounds, low-riding rhythms, and bass reverberating from the depths of oceanic halls, it's a perfect mood setter for a session of prop'ah underground t'ings. Oh, and a repeated vocal of “This is... the warning”, forever lodging itself inside your brain, such that you can't see any other iteration of “the warning” without having that voice saying it for you.
Not that Hot Chip could have known this when they named their sophomore album The Warning (are any of them closet junglists?). Like, the titular song opens with twinkly bells and twee electro-pop rhythms, about as far removed from the rugged 'n' ruff jungle scene as one can ever get. To say nothing of Alexis Taylor's gentle croon at total odds with an ominous sampled voice. Still, there's something to be said for the unnerving way they calmly sing the chorus here: “Hot Chip will break your legs; Snap off your head.” And you know they will too!
Anyhow, I've been meaning to get back into Hot Chip, as the occasional replay of Made In The Dark leaves me yearning to hear more of the group's electro-pop disco-punk palette. I just can't bring myself to revisit One Life Stand though, for reasons I needn't bring up here (damn you, 2010). If I can't go forward, then I must go backward, to the record that truly broke the five-piece out from indie obscurity into... well, indie stardom at least. Despite the DFA association, it'd still be a little longer before dance music followers truly caught onto them (*cough*).
So The Warning, the album that basically cemented what we'd expect to hear out of Hot Chip forever after. The record that fuses so many idiosyncratic musical genres into a charming electro-soup. The LP that let every indie rag flex their name-dropping ability of all the various other bands Hot Chip reminded them of. I kinda' want to avoid doing that, but I honestly understand why they initially did. Very few sounded like what Hot Chip were doing, including Hot Chip themselves. By now though, their style is so distinct, I can easily say, “Yeah, it's a Hot Chip album, from back in the day,” and y'all know exactly what that sounds like. Makes for a poor review on my part though, doesn't it.
I think the trouble I'm having with The Warning is it hasn't quite sunk into me yet, lacking the immediacy Made In The Dark had. This is for the better though, as I'm quite certain I'll get more out of this record the more I return to it. And I will return to it indeed. Just, um, after some other music I need to hear is dealt with first.
I can't look at this album and not think of a totally different release called The Warning. This particular Warning is a classic tech-step cut from Grooverider, operating under his Codename John alias, released on Metalheadz at the peak of tech-step's dominance. With its spacious sonics, flanged-out surf sounds, low-riding rhythms, and bass reverberating from the depths of oceanic halls, it's a perfect mood setter for a session of prop'ah underground t'ings. Oh, and a repeated vocal of “This is... the warning”, forever lodging itself inside your brain, such that you can't see any other iteration of “the warning” without having that voice saying it for you.
Not that Hot Chip could have known this when they named their sophomore album The Warning (are any of them closet junglists?). Like, the titular song opens with twinkly bells and twee electro-pop rhythms, about as far removed from the rugged 'n' ruff jungle scene as one can ever get. To say nothing of Alexis Taylor's gentle croon at total odds with an ominous sampled voice. Still, there's something to be said for the unnerving way they calmly sing the chorus here: “Hot Chip will break your legs; Snap off your head.” And you know they will too!
Anyhow, I've been meaning to get back into Hot Chip, as the occasional replay of Made In The Dark leaves me yearning to hear more of the group's electro-pop disco-punk palette. I just can't bring myself to revisit One Life Stand though, for reasons I needn't bring up here (damn you, 2010). If I can't go forward, then I must go backward, to the record that truly broke the five-piece out from indie obscurity into... well, indie stardom at least. Despite the DFA association, it'd still be a little longer before dance music followers truly caught onto them (*cough*).
So The Warning, the album that basically cemented what we'd expect to hear out of Hot Chip forever after. The record that fuses so many idiosyncratic musical genres into a charming electro-soup. The LP that let every indie rag flex their name-dropping ability of all the various other bands Hot Chip reminded them of. I kinda' want to avoid doing that, but I honestly understand why they initially did. Very few sounded like what Hot Chip were doing, including Hot Chip themselves. By now though, their style is so distinct, I can easily say, “Yeah, it's a Hot Chip album, from back in the day,” and y'all know exactly what that sounds like. Makes for a poor review on my part though, doesn't it.
I think the trouble I'm having with The Warning is it hasn't quite sunk into me yet, lacking the immediacy Made In The Dark had. This is for the better though, as I'm quite certain I'll get more out of this record the more I return to it. And I will return to it indeed. Just, um, after some other music I need to hear is dealt with first.
Labels:
2006,
album,
disco punk,
electro-pop,
EMI,
Hot Chip,
indie rock
Saturday, December 8, 2018
Supercar - Highvision
Ki/oon: 2002
(a Patreon Request from Philoi)
Not shockingly, most reviews I write are filled with regurgitated factoids from other sources. Having gorged myself in certain scenes, however, I've some insight into artists, genres, and trends that may not be readily available elsewhere – I feel confident when I wax the bull about Ambient Album #314,219,110, it's with some knowledge on the matter. Even stuff I'm not so boned up on, like Japanese indie rock and pop, I can usually find some additional info, giving me a stronger foundation to work from – the wiki on Wednesday Campanella was most helpful. This Supercar though, I'm just not finding much from English sources, save one Hell of a loving 'review' for this particular album on Sputnik Music.
Holy cow, but does user davidwave4 ever get into it more than I could possibly hope to, settling for nothing less than calling Highvision Supercar's Kid A. That's... quite a comparison to make there, mang', one I've no idea is apt or not. Like, there's nothing on this album that sounds like Kid A - certainly no ambient drone pieces like Treefingers - but he's not making a one-to-one music relation. Rather, he's comparing Supercar's discographical narrative to Radiohead's, with Futurama being their OK Computer, thus Highvision their Kid A. More succinctly, Futurama was the schizophrenic embracing of technology, while Highvision is the uncertain merging, accepting that change has come, and we must make do with that reality no matter how unsettling it makes us feel. Sure, guy, you go with that. I never dove deep into Radiohead's music, so have to take other people's word that such proclamations of “this is [artist]'s Kid A” as legit. By the by, when did Kid A supplant Sgt. Pepper's that way?
Right, I should get into Highvision on my own terms, which means the best I can provide is a 'dumb listen'. No deep analysis of lyrics (I can't understand them most of the time, just like Radiohead's Thom Yorke!) or genre dissertation – just simple “d'is music do this, it make me feel like d'is!” interpretations. And whoa, that's quite the distorted techno kick opening things up in Starline. There's still a regular drum kit in play too, just with an added 909 crunchy-thunk. Then there's shoegazey guitars, dream pop singing, and it feels as though I'm being lulled into a hazy headspace. That's definitely a change of tone compared to the upbeat dance number of Futurama's Changes.
And that vibe is mostly maintained throughout Highvision, a remarkable feat considering the disparate styles of music among these ten tunes. Songs flit between electro-pop ditties (Warning Bell, Strobolights, I), shoegaze rock-outs (Storywriter, Otogi Nation), dreamy dance jangles (Yumegiwawa Last Boy), and whatever orchestra electro-glitch thing Nijiiro Darkness is. Heck, there's even a thematic return with closer Silent Yaritori, that crunchy 909 kick reappearing. And best of all, Highvision leaves me feeling elated and high in spirit, which is a better feeling than the dourness of Kid A.
(a Patreon Request from Philoi)
Not shockingly, most reviews I write are filled with regurgitated factoids from other sources. Having gorged myself in certain scenes, however, I've some insight into artists, genres, and trends that may not be readily available elsewhere – I feel confident when I wax the bull about Ambient Album #314,219,110, it's with some knowledge on the matter. Even stuff I'm not so boned up on, like Japanese indie rock and pop, I can usually find some additional info, giving me a stronger foundation to work from – the wiki on Wednesday Campanella was most helpful. This Supercar though, I'm just not finding much from English sources, save one Hell of a loving 'review' for this particular album on Sputnik Music.
Holy cow, but does user davidwave4 ever get into it more than I could possibly hope to, settling for nothing less than calling Highvision Supercar's Kid A. That's... quite a comparison to make there, mang', one I've no idea is apt or not. Like, there's nothing on this album that sounds like Kid A - certainly no ambient drone pieces like Treefingers - but he's not making a one-to-one music relation. Rather, he's comparing Supercar's discographical narrative to Radiohead's, with Futurama being their OK Computer, thus Highvision their Kid A. More succinctly, Futurama was the schizophrenic embracing of technology, while Highvision is the uncertain merging, accepting that change has come, and we must make do with that reality no matter how unsettling it makes us feel. Sure, guy, you go with that. I never dove deep into Radiohead's music, so have to take other people's word that such proclamations of “this is [artist]'s Kid A” as legit. By the by, when did Kid A supplant Sgt. Pepper's that way?
Right, I should get into Highvision on my own terms, which means the best I can provide is a 'dumb listen'. No deep analysis of lyrics (I can't understand them most of the time, just like Radiohead's Thom Yorke!) or genre dissertation – just simple “d'is music do this, it make me feel like d'is!” interpretations. And whoa, that's quite the distorted techno kick opening things up in Starline. There's still a regular drum kit in play too, just with an added 909 crunchy-thunk. Then there's shoegazey guitars, dream pop singing, and it feels as though I'm being lulled into a hazy headspace. That's definitely a change of tone compared to the upbeat dance number of Futurama's Changes.
And that vibe is mostly maintained throughout Highvision, a remarkable feat considering the disparate styles of music among these ten tunes. Songs flit between electro-pop ditties (Warning Bell, Strobolights, I), shoegaze rock-outs (Storywriter, Otogi Nation), dreamy dance jangles (Yumegiwawa Last Boy), and whatever orchestra electro-glitch thing Nijiiro Darkness is. Heck, there's even a thematic return with closer Silent Yaritori, that crunchy 909 kick reappearing. And best of all, Highvision leaves me feeling elated and high in spirit, which is a better feeling than the dourness of Kid A.
Labels:
2002,
album,
electro-pop,
indie rock,
J-pop,
Ki/oon,
shoegaze,
Supercar
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Ladytron - Witching Hour
Island Records/Nettwerk: 2005/2011
Hard to believe this is only my second Ladytron review, but it's not like the foursome have made a ton of music over the years. To date, they've released five albums (though a sixth is in the works), their last one coming out way back in ye' olde year of 2011. I suppose that hectic touring schedule caused a bit of the ol' burn-out, plus they aren't the quirky young electro-pop chickens of the early '00s anymore. I'm sure members now have families to tend to, side-projects to cultivate, and whatever else that can keep a four-piece with as disparate backgrounds as these lads and lasses have from reuniting with consistency. Maybe that's why, for as much as I adore Ladytron's sound, I've always been hesitant in buying up their albums in one big splurge. I want to savour the ones that do come out for as long as humanely possible, never risking my own burn-out.
After yet another round of label troubles, Ladytron released their third album Witching Hour in 2005, one of the worst years for electronic music since the initial rave explosion. Fortunately, the group somehow stands outside time and space, the record just as sonically timeless as their previous work, yet also pertinent to the trends happening in the here (there) and now (then). It's a very good album, is what I'm saying, in a year when finding very good albums was a ridiculous feat of excavation that would make Indiana Jones and Globetrotting Batman quiver in the knees.
It was also a radical departure from the pure synth-heavy sound the group had in their early work, bringing in added drums and guitar work to complement their electro-pop. Some attributed it to latching onto the disco-punk wave of the time (LCD Soundsystem was the hippest band about), but I don't hear it. Rather, it simply sounds like Ladytron spent some of their hard-earned cash on new musical toys, thus letting them expand their aesthetic beyond pure retro work. Unless you figure 'post-punk new wave' just as retro as synth-pop.
It worked to some extent, Witching Hour scoring the band some of their first chart action, lead singles Destroy Everything You Touch and Sugar some of their best-selling songs. They weren't gang-busters, mind you, but considering their label troubles, it's remarkable they got on the Billboards at all. Then again, breaking the 'boards was never their M.O. I think their fans are perfectly content keeping Ladytron's impossibly earwormy choruses to themselves anyway. Saves room at the live shows.
And there's plenty more to enjoy from this album. The peppy 'rockers' (High Rise, AMTV, Weekend, Whitelightgenerator), the dreamy synth-poppers (International Dateline, Soft Power, The Last One Standing), and the moody downbeat pieces (CMYK, Beauty*2, All The Way). Throw in all the charmingly catchy, yet oddly tragic lyrics you've come to expect from Helen Marnie's satin lisp (...*swoon*), and Witching Hour remains one of Ladytron's best records. Just ignore the rubbish remixes at the end of the re-issues though.
Hard to believe this is only my second Ladytron review, but it's not like the foursome have made a ton of music over the years. To date, they've released five albums (though a sixth is in the works), their last one coming out way back in ye' olde year of 2011. I suppose that hectic touring schedule caused a bit of the ol' burn-out, plus they aren't the quirky young electro-pop chickens of the early '00s anymore. I'm sure members now have families to tend to, side-projects to cultivate, and whatever else that can keep a four-piece with as disparate backgrounds as these lads and lasses have from reuniting with consistency. Maybe that's why, for as much as I adore Ladytron's sound, I've always been hesitant in buying up their albums in one big splurge. I want to savour the ones that do come out for as long as humanely possible, never risking my own burn-out.
After yet another round of label troubles, Ladytron released their third album Witching Hour in 2005, one of the worst years for electronic music since the initial rave explosion. Fortunately, the group somehow stands outside time and space, the record just as sonically timeless as their previous work, yet also pertinent to the trends happening in the here (there) and now (then). It's a very good album, is what I'm saying, in a year when finding very good albums was a ridiculous feat of excavation that would make Indiana Jones and Globetrotting Batman quiver in the knees.
It was also a radical departure from the pure synth-heavy sound the group had in their early work, bringing in added drums and guitar work to complement their electro-pop. Some attributed it to latching onto the disco-punk wave of the time (LCD Soundsystem was the hippest band about), but I don't hear it. Rather, it simply sounds like Ladytron spent some of their hard-earned cash on new musical toys, thus letting them expand their aesthetic beyond pure retro work. Unless you figure 'post-punk new wave' just as retro as synth-pop.
It worked to some extent, Witching Hour scoring the band some of their first chart action, lead singles Destroy Everything You Touch and Sugar some of their best-selling songs. They weren't gang-busters, mind you, but considering their label troubles, it's remarkable they got on the Billboards at all. Then again, breaking the 'boards was never their M.O. I think their fans are perfectly content keeping Ladytron's impossibly earwormy choruses to themselves anyway. Saves room at the live shows.
And there's plenty more to enjoy from this album. The peppy 'rockers' (High Rise, AMTV, Weekend, Whitelightgenerator), the dreamy synth-poppers (International Dateline, Soft Power, The Last One Standing), and the moody downbeat pieces (CMYK, Beauty*2, All The Way). Throw in all the charmingly catchy, yet oddly tragic lyrics you've come to expect from Helen Marnie's satin lisp (...*swoon*), and Witching Hour remains one of Ladytron's best records. Just ignore the rubbish remixes at the end of the re-issues though.
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
Gorillaz - Humanz (Proper Review)
Parlaphone: 2017
I wonder what comes first when Albarn and Hewlett reconvene for another Gorillaz saga: the music, or the concept. Like, I imagine ol' Damon would have a few demos kicking around, and ol' Jamie would have a few sketches laying about, but what's the process coming up with all the intriguing backstory for their multi-media creation. I mentioned in the Kayfabe Review of Humanz that Russel Hobbs, the Gorillaz drummer with a myriad of urban American influences and North Korean incarceration, was a dominating force in how the album turned out, but was that just the story Albarn and Hewlett concocted after the fact, or did they adapt the music to serve the narrative?
Another example: there's not much of 2-D/Albarn's singing voice on Humanz. That's because the Gorillaz cartoon front-man was lost on a Mexican beach, subsisting on rotting whale meat and coarse sand (it gets everywhere). Luckily, he eventually found his way back to the studio to offer his vocal talents, but in his absence, guest vocalists Murdoc and Russel rounded up (re: Albarn connected with) took over most of the singing duties. Was 2-D's story planned this way, or made up on the fly when Damon realized his voice was taking more of a backseat on Humanz. It's a fascinating conundrum, the Gorillaz process.
Much has been said about the musical drift from 'mutant pop' of older Gorillaz albums, instead going for more of a funk, house, and soul fusion. Can't deny it was a little off-putting for yours truly, having repeatedly consumed their previous works rather voraciously in anticipation of this one. Then again, when I first heard Plastic Beach, I was initially put off by it as well, sounding very little like Demon Days. And even Demon Days I put off for years, figuring it couldn't possibly match the dubby, erratic fun of the debut album. Yet I've replayed all those albums multiple times now, as I'm sure I will with Humanz. Albarn never gives us the same thing twice with Gorillaz, and while that can be frustrating for those hoping for retreads of Clint Eastwood or DARE or On Melancholy Hill, they clearly aren't paying attention to the project's expectation-dashing intentions.
Fortunately, as I already have an affinity for house beats, and can dig the funk and soul if its got that Motown or Chicago vibe going, I warmed to Humanz quite quickly. Saturnz Barz is just as catchy as any of the band's previous dub-fusion tracks of years past, it's nice hearing Jamie Principle in the slinky electro of Sex Murder Party, and who can resist the uplifting swing of Peven Everett's vocals in house jam Strobelite? Plus ending the album with pure jubilation collaboration of We Got The Power (Jarre! Jehnny! A Gallagher!!), whoo! Ending it with such a musical cliff-hanger does leave one expecting though, but fortunately there's a 2CD version with bonus tracks that carry the party on a little longer. Of course I sprung for it!
I wonder what comes first when Albarn and Hewlett reconvene for another Gorillaz saga: the music, or the concept. Like, I imagine ol' Damon would have a few demos kicking around, and ol' Jamie would have a few sketches laying about, but what's the process coming up with all the intriguing backstory for their multi-media creation. I mentioned in the Kayfabe Review of Humanz that Russel Hobbs, the Gorillaz drummer with a myriad of urban American influences and North Korean incarceration, was a dominating force in how the album turned out, but was that just the story Albarn and Hewlett concocted after the fact, or did they adapt the music to serve the narrative?
Another example: there's not much of 2-D/Albarn's singing voice on Humanz. That's because the Gorillaz cartoon front-man was lost on a Mexican beach, subsisting on rotting whale meat and coarse sand (it gets everywhere). Luckily, he eventually found his way back to the studio to offer his vocal talents, but in his absence, guest vocalists Murdoc and Russel rounded up (re: Albarn connected with) took over most of the singing duties. Was 2-D's story planned this way, or made up on the fly when Damon realized his voice was taking more of a backseat on Humanz. It's a fascinating conundrum, the Gorillaz process.
Much has been said about the musical drift from 'mutant pop' of older Gorillaz albums, instead going for more of a funk, house, and soul fusion. Can't deny it was a little off-putting for yours truly, having repeatedly consumed their previous works rather voraciously in anticipation of this one. Then again, when I first heard Plastic Beach, I was initially put off by it as well, sounding very little like Demon Days. And even Demon Days I put off for years, figuring it couldn't possibly match the dubby, erratic fun of the debut album. Yet I've replayed all those albums multiple times now, as I'm sure I will with Humanz. Albarn never gives us the same thing twice with Gorillaz, and while that can be frustrating for those hoping for retreads of Clint Eastwood or DARE or On Melancholy Hill, they clearly aren't paying attention to the project's expectation-dashing intentions.
Fortunately, as I already have an affinity for house beats, and can dig the funk and soul if its got that Motown or Chicago vibe going, I warmed to Humanz quite quickly. Saturnz Barz is just as catchy as any of the band's previous dub-fusion tracks of years past, it's nice hearing Jamie Principle in the slinky electro of Sex Murder Party, and who can resist the uplifting swing of Peven Everett's vocals in house jam Strobelite? Plus ending the album with pure jubilation collaboration of We Got The Power (Jarre! Jehnny! A Gallagher!!), whoo! Ending it with such a musical cliff-hanger does leave one expecting though, but fortunately there's a 2CD version with bonus tracks that carry the party on a little longer. Of course I sprung for it!
Labels:
2017,
album,
electro-pop,
funk,
Gorillaz,
hip-hop,
house,
Parlaphone,
soul
Gorillaz - Humanz (Kayfabe Review)
Parlaphone: 2017
This is a band that always flies too close the sun with each release, co-existing just long enough to make great music, then utterly flame out as tensions, strife, demons (figurative and literal), distractions, and ego get in the way. True, it's almost always the fault of Murdoc Niccals, but then again there wouldn't be Gorillaz without hisunholy deals vision – I mean, have you ever seen 2-D, Russel, or Noodles put out a proper solo album of their own? They may hate and resent his guts, but they cannot deny Murdoc provides them opportunities too.
But in this case, it seemed that Plastic Beach truly was destined to be their final work. Details are 'sketchy' over what happened at Point Nemo (because, haha, they're literally sketched in the Rhinestone Eyes video, hahaha!), but we finally do know where everyone disappeared to after the Boogieman's assault on the trash island, each involved on their own personal journeys of introspection, self-reflection, emancipation, and incarceration. This last one is most important, for we probably wouldn't have this Gorillaz album without it.
Murdoc could outrun pirates, gun-runners, and devils no problem, but one entity he could never escape is the record label, specifically EMI. They somehow tracked him down after his escape from Point Nemo, throwing him into a dungeon underneath Abbey Road studio, offering freedom on the condition he get back to making another contractually obligated Gorillaz album. That left him a pickle though, as all his former bandmates were missing elsewhere. Fortunately, resourceful sod that he is, Murdockidnapped aggressively invited a number of musicians to help make the album until he could find the other Gorillaz members (cyborg option outlawed in the UK?).
By chance, one of these musicians was guitarist Jeff Wootton, whom was letting a returning Russel crash on his couch. Seems Mr. Hobs had quite the experience after swimming all the way to Point Nemo, being mistaken not only for a whale, but also a North Korean kaiju, such that the isolationist nation captured him and put him on display. The experience helped him lose almost all the his mutated weight however, and upon being released and returning to London, heard word Murdoc was in the process of crafting another Gorillaz record. Mr. Hobs immediately joined him in studio to write and record for the album.
Humanz is thus filled with a fair bit of American-inspired funk, house, and soul. For sure there's other elements at work too, but for the most part it seems Russel's influence gave us the final result. About time, as he hasn't had much chance to share his muse throughout the Gorillaz discography since the first record. His time spent in a dictatorial country also apparently gave him a unique perspective in what sort of theme to approach the album with. For instance, what if Western society was also overrun by power-hungry lunatics at the highest levels of government, all the while allowing our culture to crumble around us. No way that could happen here though! Haha, ha.
This is a band that always flies too close the sun with each release, co-existing just long enough to make great music, then utterly flame out as tensions, strife, demons (figurative and literal), distractions, and ego get in the way. True, it's almost always the fault of Murdoc Niccals, but then again there wouldn't be Gorillaz without his
But in this case, it seemed that Plastic Beach truly was destined to be their final work. Details are 'sketchy' over what happened at Point Nemo (because, haha, they're literally sketched in the Rhinestone Eyes video, hahaha!), but we finally do know where everyone disappeared to after the Boogieman's assault on the trash island, each involved on their own personal journeys of introspection, self-reflection, emancipation, and incarceration. This last one is most important, for we probably wouldn't have this Gorillaz album without it.
Murdoc could outrun pirates, gun-runners, and devils no problem, but one entity he could never escape is the record label, specifically EMI. They somehow tracked him down after his escape from Point Nemo, throwing him into a dungeon underneath Abbey Road studio, offering freedom on the condition he get back to making another contractually obligated Gorillaz album. That left him a pickle though, as all his former bandmates were missing elsewhere. Fortunately, resourceful sod that he is, Murdoc
By chance, one of these musicians was guitarist Jeff Wootton, whom was letting a returning Russel crash on his couch. Seems Mr. Hobs had quite the experience after swimming all the way to Point Nemo, being mistaken not only for a whale, but also a North Korean kaiju, such that the isolationist nation captured him and put him on display. The experience helped him lose almost all the his mutated weight however, and upon being released and returning to London, heard word Murdoc was in the process of crafting another Gorillaz record. Mr. Hobs immediately joined him in studio to write and record for the album.
Humanz is thus filled with a fair bit of American-inspired funk, house, and soul. For sure there's other elements at work too, but for the most part it seems Russel's influence gave us the final result. About time, as he hasn't had much chance to share his muse throughout the Gorillaz discography since the first record. His time spent in a dictatorial country also apparently gave him a unique perspective in what sort of theme to approach the album with. For instance, what if Western society was also overrun by power-hungry lunatics at the highest levels of government, all the while allowing our culture to crumble around us. No way that could happen here though! Haha, ha.
Labels:
2017,
album,
electro-pop,
funk,
Gorillaz,
hip-hop,
house,
Parlaphone,
soul
Monday, June 26, 2017
Gorillaz - The Fall (Kayfabe Review)
Parlaphone: 2010
Essentially a 2-D solo album, but I doubt there'd be much interest in that, so it makes sense he'd release it under the Gorillaz banner. It's remarkable he got it out at all. I thought Murdoc held all the rights to the Gorillaz brand, including what gets officially released under the name. And probably bootlegged for that matter – I can totally see Mr. Niccals working the black market for Gorillaz merch alongside everything else. “BUY! Authentic Rubbish From The Shores Of Plastic Beach!” “TASTE! Bottled Brine From The Bay Of Point Nemo!”
Murdoc's easily distracted though, what with his copious drug and drinking abuses, plus debt collectors, demons, and record executives constantly at his back. So it's not that surprising 2-D could write, record, and release an album all on his own completely under Mr. Niccals' broken nose while they were touring the Plastic Beach album – Murdoc spent much of that time bitching about the Gorillaz Live Band stealing his spotlight anyway. And if you think 2-D showing such initiative flies in the face of established Gorillaz lore, how dare you break kayfabe while reading this review! Despite coming off a simpleton and full of innocent naivety, Stuart Pot has shown smarts in the past, when called upon. His traumatic experience surrounding the Plastic Beach sessions clearly gave him some backbone in standing up to Murdoc, and if releasing a solo album while on tour under the Gorillaz brand was his way of getting back at the “bastard bass player”, all the more power to him.
That all said, it's hard getting into The Fall as a proper Gorillaz record. Even if previous albums were primarily written by lone members (ie: Noodle almost single-handily making Demon Days), at least everyone was involved. Hell, even Plastic Beach, despite lacking Noodle and Russel Hobbs, at least used elements of their talents to make it sound distinctly Gorillaz. True, Murdoc used some right shady tactics to achieve this (using DNA from Noodle to create a cyborg version of her; straight up taking Russel's drum equipment without his consent), but hey, par for the course where Mr. Niccals is concerned, amirite?
But nay, The Fall is primarily all 2-D, with assists from the Gorillaz Live Band wherever he could sneak them in. I've no doubt that Damon Albarn guy helped with some of the vocal overdubs, and a few musicians contributed as well (Mick Jones of The Clash adds a little guitar doodling to Hillbilly Man, Paul Simonon also of The Clash adds bass to Aspen Forest, Bobby Womack brings bluesy guitar and vocals for Bobby In Phoenix).
For the most part though, The Fall is 2-D making blippy, bloopy electro-pop and soul, finding inspiration from whatever city the band happened to be in during the tour. A strange concept for a solo album, but then it's not like 2-D had many options to explore his muse. Methinks he's the sort to find inspiration with whatever is immediately in front of him anyway.
Essentially a 2-D solo album, but I doubt there'd be much interest in that, so it makes sense he'd release it under the Gorillaz banner. It's remarkable he got it out at all. I thought Murdoc held all the rights to the Gorillaz brand, including what gets officially released under the name. And probably bootlegged for that matter – I can totally see Mr. Niccals working the black market for Gorillaz merch alongside everything else. “BUY! Authentic Rubbish From The Shores Of Plastic Beach!” “TASTE! Bottled Brine From The Bay Of Point Nemo!”
Murdoc's easily distracted though, what with his copious drug and drinking abuses, plus debt collectors, demons, and record executives constantly at his back. So it's not that surprising 2-D could write, record, and release an album all on his own completely under Mr. Niccals' broken nose while they were touring the Plastic Beach album – Murdoc spent much of that time bitching about the Gorillaz Live Band stealing his spotlight anyway. And if you think 2-D showing such initiative flies in the face of established Gorillaz lore, how dare you break kayfabe while reading this review! Despite coming off a simpleton and full of innocent naivety, Stuart Pot has shown smarts in the past, when called upon. His traumatic experience surrounding the Plastic Beach sessions clearly gave him some backbone in standing up to Murdoc, and if releasing a solo album while on tour under the Gorillaz brand was his way of getting back at the “bastard bass player”, all the more power to him.
That all said, it's hard getting into The Fall as a proper Gorillaz record. Even if previous albums were primarily written by lone members (ie: Noodle almost single-handily making Demon Days), at least everyone was involved. Hell, even Plastic Beach, despite lacking Noodle and Russel Hobbs, at least used elements of their talents to make it sound distinctly Gorillaz. True, Murdoc used some right shady tactics to achieve this (using DNA from Noodle to create a cyborg version of her; straight up taking Russel's drum equipment without his consent), but hey, par for the course where Mr. Niccals is concerned, amirite?
But nay, The Fall is primarily all 2-D, with assists from the Gorillaz Live Band wherever he could sneak them in. I've no doubt that Damon Albarn guy helped with some of the vocal overdubs, and a few musicians contributed as well (Mick Jones of The Clash adds a little guitar doodling to Hillbilly Man, Paul Simonon also of The Clash adds bass to Aspen Forest, Bobby Womack brings bluesy guitar and vocals for Bobby In Phoenix).
For the most part though, The Fall is 2-D making blippy, bloopy electro-pop and soul, finding inspiration from whatever city the band happened to be in during the tour. A strange concept for a solo album, but then it's not like 2-D had many options to explore his muse. Methinks he's the sort to find inspiration with whatever is immediately in front of him anyway.
Friday, June 23, 2017
Gorillaz - D-Sides
Parlaphone: 2007
So Gorillaz have been back in the spotlight these past six months, and absolutely I'll be getting around to their latest album. Maybe I'll even kayfabe it too, 'cause that's always fun, buying into the mythos Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett have crafted for their virtual band. We should be so blessed as to have a rag-tag assortment of miscreants, misanthropes, and misunderstood musicians shining a perverse spotlight on contemporary pop music. Okay, we already do have that, but no band features a member making deals with literal demons (and record executives), while another spends her non-music time slaying other demons. I wonder if the demon world has an underground scene dedicated to sampling the forbidden fruit of Gorillaz tunes.
Anyhow, as with every new album from this band, there's a multi-media blitz crossing all mediums promoting it, including new videos. And when you watch one Gorillaz video, you can't help but start watching all of them, then getting wrapped up in the lore all over again, taking in the short cartoons, the audio books, the puppet shows, and all that. It's just a shame there's but the three albums to satisfy the music craving though, a scant sampling compared to all the surrounding paraphernalia associated with the Gorillaz brand. And I've already got them, so what else is left? Oh yeah, the b-side collections. I totally missed out on those, didn't I?
Well, no longer, and gosh dag'it, why did I skip out on these in the first place? I suppose I wasn't quite so enamoured with Gorillaz at the time, and didn't think a double-disc of b-sides, alternate takes, and remixes of the Demon Days sessions was terribly enticing. Dammit though, that album just seems to get better every time I play it back again, so there's bound to be a few dope tunes that just didn't quite make the thematic cut. Yeah, a few.
If you felt Demon Days lacked the first album's wild eclecticism, D-Sides offers it in spades, twee hip-hop (Hongkongaton) rubbing shoulders with electro-punk freak-outs (Murdoc Is God, We Are Happy Landfill, The Swagga), electro-reggae (Spitting Out The Demons, Bill Murray), dream-pop (68 State, Hong Kong), and bizarro synth-funk (People, Rockit). Then there are the tunes that completely defy definition, (Stop The Dams, Highway (Under Construction)), so don't even try. Just sit back and chill-vibe on these wonderful slices of weirdo-pop, son.
CD2 holds all the remixes, and is a veritable who's-who of trendy indie dance-punk sorts of the mid-'00s. Hot Chip is here! Soulwax is here! DFA is definitely here, with their twelve-minute rub of Dare, which spends it's entire second-third building and building and building, only for a very long, minimal outro that undoubtedly had DJs all a'twitter. As these are remixes of the main Demon Days singles, the selection isn't terribly dynamic, tracks like Kids With Guns and Dare getting three apiece between the nine cuts. Fortunately, I quite like Dare, in all its incarnations. Play on, daughter.
So Gorillaz have been back in the spotlight these past six months, and absolutely I'll be getting around to their latest album. Maybe I'll even kayfabe it too, 'cause that's always fun, buying into the mythos Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett have crafted for their virtual band. We should be so blessed as to have a rag-tag assortment of miscreants, misanthropes, and misunderstood musicians shining a perverse spotlight on contemporary pop music. Okay, we already do have that, but no band features a member making deals with literal demons (and record executives), while another spends her non-music time slaying other demons. I wonder if the demon world has an underground scene dedicated to sampling the forbidden fruit of Gorillaz tunes.
Anyhow, as with every new album from this band, there's a multi-media blitz crossing all mediums promoting it, including new videos. And when you watch one Gorillaz video, you can't help but start watching all of them, then getting wrapped up in the lore all over again, taking in the short cartoons, the audio books, the puppet shows, and all that. It's just a shame there's but the three albums to satisfy the music craving though, a scant sampling compared to all the surrounding paraphernalia associated with the Gorillaz brand. And I've already got them, so what else is left? Oh yeah, the b-side collections. I totally missed out on those, didn't I?
Well, no longer, and gosh dag'it, why did I skip out on these in the first place? I suppose I wasn't quite so enamoured with Gorillaz at the time, and didn't think a double-disc of b-sides, alternate takes, and remixes of the Demon Days sessions was terribly enticing. Dammit though, that album just seems to get better every time I play it back again, so there's bound to be a few dope tunes that just didn't quite make the thematic cut. Yeah, a few.
If you felt Demon Days lacked the first album's wild eclecticism, D-Sides offers it in spades, twee hip-hop (Hongkongaton) rubbing shoulders with electro-punk freak-outs (Murdoc Is God, We Are Happy Landfill, The Swagga), electro-reggae (Spitting Out The Demons, Bill Murray), dream-pop (68 State, Hong Kong), and bizarro synth-funk (People, Rockit). Then there are the tunes that completely defy definition, (Stop The Dams, Highway (Under Construction)), so don't even try. Just sit back and chill-vibe on these wonderful slices of weirdo-pop, son.
CD2 holds all the remixes, and is a veritable who's-who of trendy indie dance-punk sorts of the mid-'00s. Hot Chip is here! Soulwax is here! DFA is definitely here, with their twelve-minute rub of Dare, which spends it's entire second-third building and building and building, only for a very long, minimal outro that undoubtedly had DJs all a'twitter. As these are remixes of the main Demon Days singles, the selection isn't terribly dynamic, tracks like Kids With Guns and Dare getting three apiece between the nine cuts. Fortunately, I quite like Dare, in all its incarnations. Play on, daughter.
Labels:
2007,
Compilation,
disco punk,
electro-pop,
funk,
Gorillaz,
house,
Parlaphone,
soul,
trip-hop
Thursday, April 28, 2016
Ratatat - Classics
XL Recordings: 2006
The best part about taking on a friend’s music collection is how it forces you out of comfort zones. Yeah, there’ll be some overlap in taste – why would you be friends if there wasn’t some common bond in the soundtracks of our lives – but there can be remarkable differences too. I doubt folks I know have as much affinity for Neil Young as I do, to say nothing of this newfound interest in dark ambient I’m currently exploring. Likewise, my interest in indie music is passive to the extreme, with only a few items making their way to my shelves. But son, I’m getting learned on this stuff these months, exposed to names both familiar and super new to my eyes. Speaking of Ratatat…!
First, I must admit I wasn’t entirely sure what sort of music Ratatat made. I had a very good guess of course, but something about this cover had me thinking this might be trap. I mean, the roaring feline in a stark shade contrast isn’t out of place in trap logos and hype material. Plus a name that likens to the rapid-fire sounds of hi-hats and snares that trap’s made its namesake? Well damn, how are you not convinced then? How about the fact this is on CD, within a clear jewel case no less. I don’t think a single trap artist has released their music in such a manner. Hell, hardly anyone does jewel cases anymore – t’is all about that digipak action, yo’.
Ratatat are in fact a duo consisting of Evan Mast and Mike Stroud, and are also a much bigger deal than I anticipated. Right, clearly not so big that I’d heard of them before, but they’ve been going strong for over a decade now, five albums deep with last year’s offering of Magnifique. And yes, they are an indie leaning act with the guitars and such, but also injecting ample amounts of electro to their productions. This has led them to comparisons between Daft Punk, Hot Chip and LCD Soundsystem, somewhat blended with Radiohead, MGMT, and M83. Hoo, now is that ever one hip dump of a namedropping!
And that’s essentially what we get with Classics, their cheekily titled second LP. There’s a lot of cool guitar tones and strumming throughout, with equal amounts of tweakin’ synths and raw drum programming backing them up. Some of this sounds quite fun, especially so in the super-catchy funky licks of Wildcat, though I’m getting some serious Get Lucky feels from it, sans the vocals. And honestly, the lack of singing on everything left a number of these tracks kinda’ empty, like they needed some scratchy screaming-warbler overtop to elevate a few to higher heights. As they are, a number of cuts come off unfinished and under produced, rough for the sake of authenticity.
But whatever, Classics is apparently their most popular album, including getting the vinyl reissue treatment recently. Huh, how did I miss these guys again? Oh yeah, that ‘comfort zone’ thing.
The best part about taking on a friend’s music collection is how it forces you out of comfort zones. Yeah, there’ll be some overlap in taste – why would you be friends if there wasn’t some common bond in the soundtracks of our lives – but there can be remarkable differences too. I doubt folks I know have as much affinity for Neil Young as I do, to say nothing of this newfound interest in dark ambient I’m currently exploring. Likewise, my interest in indie music is passive to the extreme, with only a few items making their way to my shelves. But son, I’m getting learned on this stuff these months, exposed to names both familiar and super new to my eyes. Speaking of Ratatat…!
First, I must admit I wasn’t entirely sure what sort of music Ratatat made. I had a very good guess of course, but something about this cover had me thinking this might be trap. I mean, the roaring feline in a stark shade contrast isn’t out of place in trap logos and hype material. Plus a name that likens to the rapid-fire sounds of hi-hats and snares that trap’s made its namesake? Well damn, how are you not convinced then? How about the fact this is on CD, within a clear jewel case no less. I don’t think a single trap artist has released their music in such a manner. Hell, hardly anyone does jewel cases anymore – t’is all about that digipak action, yo’.
Ratatat are in fact a duo consisting of Evan Mast and Mike Stroud, and are also a much bigger deal than I anticipated. Right, clearly not so big that I’d heard of them before, but they’ve been going strong for over a decade now, five albums deep with last year’s offering of Magnifique. And yes, they are an indie leaning act with the guitars and such, but also injecting ample amounts of electro to their productions. This has led them to comparisons between Daft Punk, Hot Chip and LCD Soundsystem, somewhat blended with Radiohead, MGMT, and M83. Hoo, now is that ever one hip dump of a namedropping!
And that’s essentially what we get with Classics, their cheekily titled second LP. There’s a lot of cool guitar tones and strumming throughout, with equal amounts of tweakin’ synths and raw drum programming backing them up. Some of this sounds quite fun, especially so in the super-catchy funky licks of Wildcat, though I’m getting some serious Get Lucky feels from it, sans the vocals. And honestly, the lack of singing on everything left a number of these tracks kinda’ empty, like they needed some scratchy screaming-warbler overtop to elevate a few to higher heights. As they are, a number of cuts come off unfinished and under produced, rough for the sake of authenticity.
But whatever, Classics is apparently their most popular album, including getting the vinyl reissue treatment recently. Huh, how did I miss these guys again? Oh yeah, that ‘comfort zone’ thing.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
Various - DJ-Kicks: Hot Chip
Studio !K7: 2007/2008
DJ-Kicks has been on the market for twenty years now, an incredible feat for any mix CD series. Wait, there isn’t any other with such an accolade! In terms of longevity, the closest comparison could be Pete Tong’s Essential Mix, but the Tongster never committed every entry to a physical format. On one hand, that’s a shame, because there’s been some incredible episodes of Essential Mix that are only available through unofficial, dodgy channels, and a physical medium would make archiving them easier. On the other hand, dear God, can you imagine the shelf space required if they were all on CD? Just keep that terabyte of info on an external harddrive, mang.
Of course, the vinyl and aluminum format has its limits too, printing runs only lasting so long before resources or interest fades. Still, with a respectable reputation and savvy marketing on one’s side, it’s easy enough to trot out the reissues, which Studio !K7 did for DJ-Kicks during their 2008 downtime. For sure there were some older mixes that could use exposure to a newer audience, but I’m befuddled by Studio !K7’s selection process here. Almost nothing from pre-2000 made the cut, while some incredibly (then) recent CDs were thrust back out on the market. Take this DJ-Kicks from Hot Chip, only a year old before being given the reissue treatment. Just… why? I can’t think of any reason this needed another version on the market, not to mention those from other recent mixes by Booka Shade, Henrik Schwarz, and Four Tet. Okay, maybe that last one – the Four Tet fanbase is rather ravenous.
In any case, Hot Chip, those highly eclectic electro-disco new wave pop weirdos, gives us a suitably eclectic mix full of electro, disco, new wave, and pop weirdness. And some tech-house too - everyone was obligated to play tech-house in the back-half of the ‘00s. Such variety is what happens when you invite five guys into the DJ booth though. Hell, even if this set only comprised the tastes of core members Alexis Taylor (the dorky one) and Joe Goddard (the cherub one), it’d still be all over the place. About the only route they could have gone was the mixtape method, and Hot Chip does just that. The opening salvo alone contains electro-pop soft-rock Nitemoves from Grovesnor, flirtatious back-and-forth hip-hop in Positive K’s I Got A Man, big beat soul-funk from Gramme’s Like U, and a mash-up of Subway’s Persuasion’s synth crescendos and choppy tech-house rhythms of Soundhack’s B1. Erm, I’m not sure which B1; Soundhack had a couple.
That’s what this DJ-Kicks entails: mini-sections of outlier tunes (Um’s The Man’s Got Me Beat, Young Leek’s Jiggle It, NĂ´ze’s Love Affair) rubbing shoulders with trendy contemporary hotness (Dominik Eulberb’s Der Buchdrucker, Wookie’s Far East, Lanark Records’ The Stone That The Builder Rejected) and chintzy classics (Joe Jackson’s Steppin Out, New Order’s Bizarre Love Triangle). If you don’t mind the stop-start flow of such a mix, then have Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks a go.
DJ-Kicks has been on the market for twenty years now, an incredible feat for any mix CD series. Wait, there isn’t any other with such an accolade! In terms of longevity, the closest comparison could be Pete Tong’s Essential Mix, but the Tongster never committed every entry to a physical format. On one hand, that’s a shame, because there’s been some incredible episodes of Essential Mix that are only available through unofficial, dodgy channels, and a physical medium would make archiving them easier. On the other hand, dear God, can you imagine the shelf space required if they were all on CD? Just keep that terabyte of info on an external harddrive, mang.
Of course, the vinyl and aluminum format has its limits too, printing runs only lasting so long before resources or interest fades. Still, with a respectable reputation and savvy marketing on one’s side, it’s easy enough to trot out the reissues, which Studio !K7 did for DJ-Kicks during their 2008 downtime. For sure there were some older mixes that could use exposure to a newer audience, but I’m befuddled by Studio !K7’s selection process here. Almost nothing from pre-2000 made the cut, while some incredibly (then) recent CDs were thrust back out on the market. Take this DJ-Kicks from Hot Chip, only a year old before being given the reissue treatment. Just… why? I can’t think of any reason this needed another version on the market, not to mention those from other recent mixes by Booka Shade, Henrik Schwarz, and Four Tet. Okay, maybe that last one – the Four Tet fanbase is rather ravenous.
In any case, Hot Chip, those highly eclectic electro-disco new wave pop weirdos, gives us a suitably eclectic mix full of electro, disco, new wave, and pop weirdness. And some tech-house too - everyone was obligated to play tech-house in the back-half of the ‘00s. Such variety is what happens when you invite five guys into the DJ booth though. Hell, even if this set only comprised the tastes of core members Alexis Taylor (the dorky one) and Joe Goddard (the cherub one), it’d still be all over the place. About the only route they could have gone was the mixtape method, and Hot Chip does just that. The opening salvo alone contains electro-pop soft-rock Nitemoves from Grovesnor, flirtatious back-and-forth hip-hop in Positive K’s I Got A Man, big beat soul-funk from Gramme’s Like U, and a mash-up of Subway’s Persuasion’s synth crescendos and choppy tech-house rhythms of Soundhack’s B1. Erm, I’m not sure which B1; Soundhack had a couple.
That’s what this DJ-Kicks entails: mini-sections of outlier tunes (Um’s The Man’s Got Me Beat, Young Leek’s Jiggle It, NĂ´ze’s Love Affair) rubbing shoulders with trendy contemporary hotness (Dominik Eulberb’s Der Buchdrucker, Wookie’s Far East, Lanark Records’ The Stone That The Builder Rejected) and chintzy classics (Joe Jackson’s Steppin Out, New Order’s Bizarre Love Triangle). If you don’t mind the stop-start flow of such a mix, then have Hot Chip’s DJ-Kicks a go.
Labels:
2007,
disco,
DJ Mix,
DJ-Kicks,
electro-pop,
funk,
Hot Chip,
indie rock,
new wave,
soul,
Studio K7,
tech-house
Wednesday, March 13, 2013
Chromeo - Fancy Footwork (Original TC Review)
Vice Records: 2007
(2013 Update:
Chromeo may have been sincere in their music, but to many of their fans at the time, they were treated as little more than a novelty act. Straight-up hipster fests at most of their shows and, as with all things hipster "enjoyed", Chromeo became passe as that scene turned their ironic tastes elsewhere in short order (or just grew the fuck up). That, or Chromeo signing to a major label for their third album, Business Casual, made them no longer cool - retro electro-funk pop's only cool if it's some indie act playing it, I guess.
Of course, if you genuinely like this sound, Fancy Footwork hasn't dated in the slightest. It was intentionally dated to begin with, after all.)
IN BRIEF: “If it ain’t broke...”, etc.
When Chromeo first made their presence felt on Tiga’s label Turbo Recordings, they were surrounded by a huge roster of up-and-coming names, each pushing and shoving for attention in a quickly crowded electro-renaissance. In spite of this, Dave 1 and Pee Thug still stood out from the pack thanks to their ultra-stripped electro funk sound and playfully charming come-ons. They grabbed your attention because, unlike many of their brethren whom fallen by the wayside, you honestly couldn’t tell if their ‘80s indulgence was ironic or sincere. Oh, and they had some damn fine catchy hooks too.
Half a decade on, the landscape of dance music has certainly changed; the era of electroclash seems but a distant memory, even if trace elements of kitsch can still be found on occasion. Chromeo were a perfect fit for the retro-revival then, but now that tastes and trends have moved on to encompass indie-rock overtones and navel-gazing minimalism, has the duo found it necessary to change with the times as well? With their sophomore effort, the answer is a resounding “Gosh no!”
Fancy Footwork finds them picking up right where they left off on She’s In Control. Talk boxes. Roland 808s. Analogue synths. And songs of women. Lots of women. Electro funk vibes and synth-pop melodies dominate once more, and Chromeo find little reason to move out of their comfortable niche. Because of this, some might figure the duo as nothing but a one-trick pony. However, this strikes me more as a definitive statement of how they wish their act to be perceived. You might have been able to knock them for trend-jumping in the beginning but not here. This sound is more unique now than it was half a decade ago.
And you can forget the ‘irony’ suppositions as well. Yes, it was easier to pin it on them before, but that was due to the overwhelming number of acts surrounding them that were being ironic; Chromeo were merely caught in their wave. Now, the duo stands independent from taste-makers, quite happy to no longer be trapped within trends. As such, they’re bolder in presenting themselves, secure in the knowledge they have the chops to deliver their sound sincerely and without constant comparisons to current names (they’ll never be rid of the ones from the ‘80s though).
But don’t for a second take this as though they’ve become serious musicians. Chromeo’s songs are still filled with playful witticisms and willful pop. It’s just much easier to buy into the fun of it without feeling like a trendwhore. If their Intro doesn’t win you over with its vintage synths and “Chro-mee-oh, ooh-oh ” chant, then you may as well write the rest of Fancy Footwork off, as it’s clear you won’t be able to buy into their sound.
And while the music itself is mostly straight-forward and entertaining, it’s the lyrics that win you over. Of course, their pick-up lines like “You got a boy like him, a man like me, and you know that’s just not the same” and “..call me when you’re home alone; call me when you’re freaky, call me when you’re nasty, call me when you want to mmh” are amusing but Dave 1's simple tales of relationships come in various guises. The hilariously Freudian Momma’s Boy for instance, or Pee Thug’s so-simple-it’s-sound advice on how to deal with a testy relationship (“take her to the movies and you’re gonna work it all out” - even Dave 1 seems stunned by it). Elsewhere, smoother moments such as 100% and Outta Sight show a more thoughtful side to their writing. Probably the only instance where the duo’s wit comes into question is on Tenderoni, where the title is often repeated like a woeful intent to create hip slang.
All this being said, there isn’t anything on here that could be deemed a standout hit. Titular track Fancy Footwork, with its bumping rhythms and simple call for dancing on the floor, is the closest we get, with Bonafide Lovin and Waiting 4 U holding the silver and bronze. The rest, while all nicely digestible synth ‘n’ funk, remains unabashedly singular in execution - it doesn’t exactly sound canned, but nor does it sound original. It’s like they’re appetizers rather than a full-course meal. Ultimately, those inventive or lingering moments that could help lift the album above something more than a pleasing diversion are missing.
Still, if you have nary a problem with light-weight happy-fun electro, such criticisms probably won’t be of much concern. Chromeo’s act is in fine form, and unless the combination of poppy hooks and hot-neon imagery leaves a lingering bitterness in your ears, you’ll come from Fancy Footwork with a smile on your face.
(2013 Update:
Chromeo may have been sincere in their music, but to many of their fans at the time, they were treated as little more than a novelty act. Straight-up hipster fests at most of their shows and, as with all things hipster "enjoyed", Chromeo became passe as that scene turned their ironic tastes elsewhere in short order (or just grew the fuck up). That, or Chromeo signing to a major label for their third album, Business Casual, made them no longer cool - retro electro-funk pop's only cool if it's some indie act playing it, I guess.
Of course, if you genuinely like this sound, Fancy Footwork hasn't dated in the slightest. It was intentionally dated to begin with, after all.)
IN BRIEF: “If it ain’t broke...”, etc.
When Chromeo first made their presence felt on Tiga’s label Turbo Recordings, they were surrounded by a huge roster of up-and-coming names, each pushing and shoving for attention in a quickly crowded electro-renaissance. In spite of this, Dave 1 and Pee Thug still stood out from the pack thanks to their ultra-stripped electro funk sound and playfully charming come-ons. They grabbed your attention because, unlike many of their brethren whom fallen by the wayside, you honestly couldn’t tell if their ‘80s indulgence was ironic or sincere. Oh, and they had some damn fine catchy hooks too.
Half a decade on, the landscape of dance music has certainly changed; the era of electroclash seems but a distant memory, even if trace elements of kitsch can still be found on occasion. Chromeo were a perfect fit for the retro-revival then, but now that tastes and trends have moved on to encompass indie-rock overtones and navel-gazing minimalism, has the duo found it necessary to change with the times as well? With their sophomore effort, the answer is a resounding “Gosh no!”
Fancy Footwork finds them picking up right where they left off on She’s In Control. Talk boxes. Roland 808s. Analogue synths. And songs of women. Lots of women. Electro funk vibes and synth-pop melodies dominate once more, and Chromeo find little reason to move out of their comfortable niche. Because of this, some might figure the duo as nothing but a one-trick pony. However, this strikes me more as a definitive statement of how they wish their act to be perceived. You might have been able to knock them for trend-jumping in the beginning but not here. This sound is more unique now than it was half a decade ago.
And you can forget the ‘irony’ suppositions as well. Yes, it was easier to pin it on them before, but that was due to the overwhelming number of acts surrounding them that were being ironic; Chromeo were merely caught in their wave. Now, the duo stands independent from taste-makers, quite happy to no longer be trapped within trends. As such, they’re bolder in presenting themselves, secure in the knowledge they have the chops to deliver their sound sincerely and without constant comparisons to current names (they’ll never be rid of the ones from the ‘80s though).
But don’t for a second take this as though they’ve become serious musicians. Chromeo’s songs are still filled with playful witticisms and willful pop. It’s just much easier to buy into the fun of it without feeling like a trendwhore. If their Intro doesn’t win you over with its vintage synths and “Chro-mee-oh, ooh-oh ” chant, then you may as well write the rest of Fancy Footwork off, as it’s clear you won’t be able to buy into their sound.
And while the music itself is mostly straight-forward and entertaining, it’s the lyrics that win you over. Of course, their pick-up lines like “You got a boy like him, a man like me, and you know that’s just not the same” and “..call me when you’re home alone; call me when you’re freaky, call me when you’re nasty, call me when you want to mmh” are amusing but Dave 1's simple tales of relationships come in various guises. The hilariously Freudian Momma’s Boy for instance, or Pee Thug’s so-simple-it’s-sound advice on how to deal with a testy relationship (“take her to the movies and you’re gonna work it all out” - even Dave 1 seems stunned by it). Elsewhere, smoother moments such as 100% and Outta Sight show a more thoughtful side to their writing. Probably the only instance where the duo’s wit comes into question is on Tenderoni, where the title is often repeated like a woeful intent to create hip slang.
All this being said, there isn’t anything on here that could be deemed a standout hit. Titular track Fancy Footwork, with its bumping rhythms and simple call for dancing on the floor, is the closest we get, with Bonafide Lovin and Waiting 4 U holding the silver and bronze. The rest, while all nicely digestible synth ‘n’ funk, remains unabashedly singular in execution - it doesn’t exactly sound canned, but nor does it sound original. It’s like they’re appetizers rather than a full-course meal. Ultimately, those inventive or lingering moments that could help lift the album above something more than a pleasing diversion are missing.
Still, if you have nary a problem with light-weight happy-fun electro, such criticisms probably won’t be of much concern. Chromeo’s act is in fine form, and unless the combination of poppy hooks and hot-neon imagery leaves a lingering bitterness in your ears, you’ll come from Fancy Footwork with a smile on your face.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Ferry Corsten - Fire (Original TC Review)
Flashover Recordings: Cat. # FLASHCD002
Released October 28, 2005
Track List:
1. Fire (Radio Edit) (3:44)
2. Fire (Extended) (7:21)
3. Fire (Flashover Remix) (7:21)
(2010 Update:
Man, confrontational or what? I guess I was itching to let out some of my gripes of Corsten's brand of trance for a while, and went for it here. Not a good review by any stretch -even the snarky attitude here isn't as clever as it hopes to be.)
IN BRIEF: Give me 80's or give me death (by fire).
Well, gee, what more can there be said about Ferry Corsten that hasn't been psychoanalyzed to death by scene scrutinizers and would-be historians? As a guy who almost single-handedly popularized an entire musical movement, supplanting nearly every other form of EDM as the premiere genre in the process, his place in history is pretty much guaranteed. I suppose the only debate that still rages regarding Corsten is whether that place will be remembered with reverence or infamy.
But screw all that. I'm going to tell where Mr. Corsten stands with me.
To be blunt, I grew to despise the Corsten style very quickly (so apologies in advance for any snide comments to come, as some habits are hard to break). Not so much the songs themselves (although they'd get a bit loony on occasion) but the way they were used by DJs. I'm sure you all know the drill: pumping rhythm gets you psyched for a minute or two, it recedes to introduce a happy-go-lucky melody for a minute or two, song builds back up for a minute or two, finally accumulating to an energetic climax played out for a minute or two. Vintage Corsten, right?
This formula was so successful, nearly every new trance producer (and even a few older ones) shamelessly copied it, right down to the exact same synth patches Corsten used.
To this day, the formula continues to be milked despite it having overstayed its welcome by a good three years (or six, for some). Worse yet, a great number of DJs ended up hammering these types of tracks endlessly through a night. While such songs make for good peaks in a set, when they are played over and over it creates an annoying stop-go-stop-go-stop-go flatline of momentum. Anytime you feel you get somewhere, you end up taking a few steps back due to killed rhythm.
Is it fair of me to blame Corsten for this? Probably not, but it was his tracks and remixes that set the atmosphere for many a flatlined party for me, and those boring nights have become fixated with his sound in my psyche. As a result, nearly every time I hear a standard Corsten type of track, such memories come back, and I'm bored of what I hear. It cannot be helped, as that's just the way music and our brains work. Until some good memories are replaced with the bad ones, those Corsten tunes that were overplayed with such redundancy by bad DJs will continue to draw my ire unless something amazing is done with it (looking at the state of trance these days, I do not hold out hope).
Of course, this has nothing to do with Fire.
It's no secret Corsten's changed direction in recent years, moving on from the sounds that made him famous. While many seem to be calling his new style 'electro trance', I personally call it 'using a different preset because the sawwave button is busted'.
Okay, jokes aside, the newer sound used in Fire is kind of refreshing if you've followed his career. I'd hardly call it trance, as it almost sounds like the kind of stuff you might have heard in the early hi-nrg clubs. The songwriting is stupidly simple, with the main hook repeating throughout as additional twinkly melodies and harsh effects come and go.
Oh, what's that? You've already heard that hook? Well, sure. Fire is essentially a cover of Duran Duran's Serious, right down to Simon le Bon's opening lyrics being lifted and repeated throughout. I guess I could moan and bitch about how the pillage of the 80's continues unabated, but I like this track just enough to give it a pass. That hook is far too catchy to complain about the big picture right now.
The Flashover Remix sees Ferry having fixed the sawwave button on his synth, so we get a pretty standard trancey overhaul of Fire. The main hook is subdued in the form of sweeping synths as it gradually builds throughout while all the other elements play out as they did in the original. And, of course, there's a standard breakdown and build, which is inoffensive enough provided it gets used properly in sets (I wouldn't hold my breath) but nothing revolutionary either. Granted, there was a breakdown/build in the original too, but it was much shorter and far less obvious, as there were enough noisy effects going on throughout it that it never felt as though the pacing was thrown off.
And, to be honest, I think the fact we didn't have to sit through so many of the usual Corsten clichés is what helps this track out more than it really should. Yes, the hook can get a bit annoying if listened to for a while, but it is also perfectly catchy in that you'll find yourself humming it to yourself long after its been played.
The rest of it sees Corsten sticking to his strengths and foregoing what I always perceived to be his one weakness: the danceable rhythms are still there but the peaks of the song aren't as anticlimactic as a number of his tunes have been in the past (yes, I know I'm in the minority on this one, but who's writing this review -you chowderheads, or me?).
Although I'm covering the initial CD release of Fire, I thought I'd be generous and also do a quick bonus review of the vinyl-only Ron van den Beuken Remix.
Ahem...
This remix is sweet! Consisting of hard, driving, German (styled) trance that scrubs away all the goofiness of the original in favor of a sinister atmosphere, there's far more energy to this than the other mixes. Beuken's version is guaranteed to pummel a dancefloor with its aggressive edge.
If you don't own a turntable (probably many of you) and you want to be honest and legally pay for this remix (probably not as many of you), I highly recommend you pester Mr. Corsten with e-mails to include it in future CD releases of Fire. Until then, I'd say hold off on picking this up, as you'll probably be hearing the original all over the place on radios (underground and popular), clubs, compilations, and passing trendster cars to get your fix in the meanwhile.
Score: 7/10
Written by Sykonee. Originally published 2005 for TranceCritic.com.© All rights reserved.
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