the decade dance

i've been thinking more about big beat.

i reviewed the debut album, zeppelin 3 (har har) by philly band/dj project pink skull, using an extended comparison to the chemical brothers' dig your own hole as a central throughline - as inspired and informed by [head skull bro] julian s prcss' reference to it in this article. here are some excerpts [yes! self-quotes!]:

"Zeppelin 3 doesn't sound much like the vast majority of electronic music produced this decade, with a rough-edged, acid-washed sensibility that evinces little of electro-house's garish, '80s-refracting gleam or minimal's streamlined polish. . . . most of the album consists of highly abstract, restively mutating groove-based tracks that land somewhere in between breakbeat and acid house, overlaid with squelching psychedelic synths, percussion breakdowns, snatches of saxophone, and tortured, unrecognizable vocal fragments, and embellished with a dizzying array of effects. In other words, it's not far off from the bulk of Dig Your Own Hole..."

the comparison actually took me by surprise - this album definitely sounds more like classic chembros than anything i've heard in ages (even the chems own recent work), but the connection didn't even occur to me at first, even though i've been semi-actively searching for signs of a big beat resurgence. part of that's because i've been struggling somewhat to really enjoy pink skull - i still like them more in theory than in practice, mostly because although they fare pretty well with chemicalesque eclecticism, psychedelicity, bombast (to some extent), weirdness, and general beat science, they never really nail the pop part of the equation. [it helped somewhat when i realized that "gonzo's cointreau," which you can stream or download here, is this album's "block rockin' beats," if it has one. (it doesn't.)]

which means it doesn't particularly sound like big beat more generally - the chemical brothers, and those first two albums specifically, may have set the template for the style, but a lot of their followers (most notably fatboy slim, the genre's most visible practitioner) took things in a somewhat different direction - more overtly poppy, more streamlined, and, inevitably, more predictable (which isn't necessarily a bad thing - just, more formalized, less experimental.)

i realize that i haven't been very precise about what i mean by big beat - what exactly a resurgence would sound like. the wikipedia description is pretty accurate, i think, and i'd argue that justice, simian mobile disco, and others have been utilizing several of the elements mentioned there, though certainly not all.

this also makes me think about how truly different dance/electronica in the 2000s has been from its most prominent strains in the '90s. m. matos pointed out recently [in his review of the effortlessly enjoyable rex the dog album, which is tremendously bombastic in its fashion, which i'll probably write up tomorrow] how relatively static and unchanging things have been lately:

"Four years would seem like a lot longer ago in dance-music terms than it sounds here. It's been that kind of decade: especially compared to the '90s, the best dance records of 2008 don't sound extremely different than those of 2004, or 2000."

this has meant, somewhat strangely, a paucity of distinct subgenres: as big beat, trip-hop, downtempo, drum'n'bass, and the cut'n'paste/sampling/turntablism based style of dj shadow and the ninja tune stable (um, instrumental hip-hop?) effectively ceased to be significant forces in the broader musical discourse (or, as they lost their luster and we stopped paying much attention to them), we've been left with a far-more-thorny-to-disentangle/subcategorize array of styles (tech-house, digital disco, microhouse, electro-house, the omnipresent, near-meaningless "minimal") that share a pronounced and relatively direct connection to house, electronic disco, and synth-pop. these styles, in turn - effectively direct off-shoots of disco - were prominent in the '80s but were relatively out of favor in the '90s, when they informed merely a portion of the varied electronica spectrum, namely the slick, buffed trance and house music which fueled and dominated the rave scene and mainstream club culture (and are still evidently going strong), and the filter-house of the french touch cohort, which effectively formed the bridge to the new millennium, specifically in the form of daft punk (even as the related but more omnivorous sound of artists like basement jaxx fell somewhat by the wayside.)

of course, all of this decade-based generalizing is to some extent simplified and suspect, but it does seem to work surprisingly well. a lot of things do seem to change around the ends and beginnings of decades: like '77-79 before it, the turn of the '90s was a major turning point for music - specifically '88 (in the UK) and '91 (in the US), for different reasons, but also the early-to-mid '90s more generally - and so was '00-'02, as i'll get into in a minute.

i don't mean to suggest that all of these kinds of music haven't had more continuous trajectories: there were certainly '90s-era forebears of contemporary minimal-style techno (basic channel, for one), just as there are still some practitioners of most of the various '90s styles - fatboy slim and the chemicals still soldier on, as do plenty of others. still, at least from my perspective, as somebody who entered the techno-loving picture c. 1997-98, there have been some dramatic shifts in the relatively prominence of these various strains.

to be specific: the forms that i'm positing as prevalent in the '80s and '00s share a relatively straight-up 4-on-the-floor house/disco rhythm and a sound palette that draws heavily or exclusively on synthesizers. neither of these things is true of the styles i listed as big in the '90s, all of which have much more pronounced influences (something that barely even seemed noteworthy at the time) from hip-hop and/or rock, especially classic and psychedelic rock - in its rhythms (breakbeats, heavy funk, accented backbeats), its sounds (guitars, big boomy drums, eclectic sound effects, and vocals by rappers and rock-styled singers as opposed to soul/disco divas), and also in its song structures and overall presentation.

indeed, the rockiness of '90s electronica (and big beat specifically) seems to have had a lot to do with its success - it's no coincidence that it was the prodigy, a _band_, were the first techno act to really break in the states, and broke bigger than pretty much anyone else to date (oh right, moby.) big beat probably had more bands than any electronic style before or since except for trip-hop - lo fi allstars, lionrock, apollo 440 [and now pink skull] - though the majority of its acts were unquestionably duos (why was that?), most of them pairs of producers who enlisted MCs and vocalists on a per-track basis. (sort of like hip-hop in reverse.) as the decade went on, the lines between rock and electronica (and rap) increasingly blurred, what with high-profile fusionists like nine inch nails and garbage, mainstream (rock) artists like U2, blur, and other assorted britpoppers dabbling in (generally rather big-beaty) electronica, and armies of dabbling experimenters spanning the art-pop spectrum - beck, björk, beastie boys, cornershop, soul coughing, etc. (a sector i've discussed plenty) - all getting their remix on. one could think of all this as electronica bending itself in various ways so as to conform to rockist prerequisites and become thereby more broadly palatable. which is hardly a problem: the results were definitely kaleidascopic and fascinating - like most fusions, it was fertile territory.

perhaps it's a coincidence, but right around or slightly after the turn of the millennium, when big beat was imploding, or seemed to be, due to overexposure (shades of disco '79), staleness, and apparent stagnation, and unadultered, non-electronicafied rock was attempting to reassert itself (mostly unsuccessfully), a rising tide of anti-rockist sentiment was beginning to make the world (or at least the musosphere) safe for the re-emergence of disco, synth-pop, and the like - "pure" (or at least more roots-informed) forms of electronic dance (which, to be sure, also carried their own sort of rockist, unintentionally elitist appeal) - as galvanized by daft punk's widely lauded discovery [2001], which ended up having an unforeseeably wide-ranging influence on the decade. [ironically or not, the chemical brothers had staked out a similar direction on surrender ('99), to middling success, but they were already starting to be seen as has-beens by '02, despite the impressively fresh-sounding come with us.] all of which had the (arguably reactionary) effect of segregating mainstream rock from mainstream dance - reversing the trend of integration that had characterized the late '90s - and killing (at least for the time being, and still) the prospects of electronic music truly gaining mainstream popularity in the states.

now, as i have discussed at length in the process of attempting to genrefy it, there certainly has been plenty of rock/dance fusion this decade, but, as i've argued, it's fundamentally from the way that fusion worked in the '90s. compared to the somewhat overdetermined cut-and-paste genre-blending of the last decade (the "collage" aesthetic central to big beat among various other styles), this stuff feels like a more cohesive and organic combination, which makes sense since it's rooted in the way the genres developed together, "naturally," in the post-disco fallout of the early '80s, often obscured from mainstream scrutiny - some strains of synthpop and new wave became commercially successful, but the original dance-punk, electro-disco, and other sorts of post-disco experimentation were relatively underground until recent years.

meanwhile, arguably, jungle/d'n'b didn't so much fade from favor as segue into ukg, grime, and dubstep, effectively strengthening its connection to hip-hop and distancing itself from electronic dance music proper. as for trip-hop and instro-hop, well the avalanches were certainly fresh in '01, but shadow's sophomore alb and rjd2's debut were a good ways from the zeitgest in '02, while diplo's florida ['04] seemed like a total throwback, and this year's return of portishead felt like a completely alien occurence.

so it goes. now another decade is coming to an end, and it's hard to say what might be in store. we may see a continuation of cyclical pattern - it seems likely, though hard to exactly envision right now; things have felt relatively static of late. the only substantial new trend of the last few years that comes to mind, at least in terms of things that have potential widespread impact, is the smallish but still-burbling-along '60s soul revival [which, it just occurred to me, as it's specifically british, perhaps a decades-late upshot of the northern soul phenomenon that kickstarted dj and dance culture as we now know it [q.v. the excellent last night a dj saved my life, which i have just finished reading, and about which i'll have more to say com'n up], could be taken as yet another example, like rock'n'roll and house/techno themselves, of the brits appropriating a black american genre and selling it back to us as white, though the turnaround took especially long this time.]

anyway. the midfield general album drops here in the states next week. i certainly don't expect it to make any major waves.... but you never know. the pink skull album, which doesn't sound all that much like the general's (it's better, i suppose, from an artistic standpoint, but who cares, it's just not as fun) hasn't garnered all that much attention, but some have been hailing it as innovative and forward-looking, and i could certainly envision a similar aesthetic gaining traction in the future. i closed my review by calling it "a worthwhile and promising step in the ongoing exploration and integration of dance music's interconnected past and future." which sounds a bit clunky and vaguely meaningless, even to me, but actually sums it up fairly well, i think. maybe we'll end up looking back on 2008 as the start of another something else. nu rave, indeed. bring on the next, big, thing.

AMG review round-up, volume VII: Labrador Edition

I first heard about Labrador records eighteen months ago, via the P4k review (I think it was) of their 100th-release retrospective box, "A Complete History of Popular Music," which I later picked for cheap-cheap at Academy. Turns out that title's (slightly) less of a gag than you think it is... they really do come off as the premier, "definitive" outlet for excellent [Swedish, indie-]pop(ular) music [1999-2007], and the quality of their output is impressively high, by and large, although that part of that perception is definitely down to some shrewd self-marketing, and there's also something about the neatness of it all - design, organization, numbering. [I think I've recently become a true lover of record labels, as a category unto themselves; Daptone, Numero, Light in the Attic, Lo, Leaf, Sincerely Yours, Hybris, Soul Jazz, and Ghostly Int'l, among others, have all caught my attention in the last couple of years, and I've spent an inordinate amount of time on their websites]

'08 has been a pretty low-key year for the label, with only a handful of releases including the new Pelle Carlberg and Sound of Arrows EP which I'm currently worming my way around, and a short stack of Club 8 re-issues. Meanwhile, I've spent much of the year familiarizing myself with their back-catalog, by way of filling in the gaps in AMG's coverage, of which there were surprisingly many, given the consistent boosterism of Tim Sendra (and now sold-out speed-walker Margaret Reges - remind me never to write an AMG bio of myself.) Anyway, here's what I've found out so far:

Tribeca: bio and Dragon Down review

Dragon Down is uncommonly ruminative for an album of synth-based pop, combining a finely tuned ear for hooks and inventive, often playful synthesizer arrangements with a mature, songwriterly sensibility in lyrical dissections of love and pain that place a definite emphasis on the latter. Right out of the gate, "La, la, la etc." belies its sturdy electro-disco groove and guardedly hopeful lyrics about the prospect of domestic happiness (opening line: "So I love you/I guess that's a good thing") with an air of restraint and weariness that's echoed in the laconic title/chorus. Even the most musically vibrant songs -- the driving "Hide Away," with its deliciously cheesy faux-Chinese riffs, and the massively buoyant dream pop single "Solitude" -- are more than a little tinged with sadness, while the understated, slow-grooving lament "The Big Hurt" slides into hammering hard techno in its final minute, as if to viscerally transfer its anguish onto the listener. The album's second half, in particular, is markedly melancholic and muted, though Lasse Lindh's indelible melodies and sweetly personable vocals, along with the supple programmed beats, help keep it from becoming unbearably bleak. The most striking moment, however, is less tormented than it is disarming, funny, and even a little sexy, albeit uneasily so: "Her Breasts Were Still Small," a strangely somber account of an early sexual experience (apparently the protagonist was 14 at the time of the events in question, which may mitigate some of the creepiness in the song's title) manages to be sweetly nostalgic and disturbing at the same time, with music -- alternately tense and dreamy -- which fits that duality perfectly.

Sambassadeur: Sambassadeur review

Sambassadeur's endearingly winsome debut album is textbook indie pop, of the gentle, bookish variety purveyed by the Lucksmiths, the Clientele, the Go-Betweens, and any number of other oft-cited luminaries, not to mention several of their Labrador labelmates including Acid House Kings and Starlet. So what sets this Swedish foursome apart in a sea of softly strummy soundalikes? Nothing much that one can easily point to, although there is something special in their ability to make even perfectly clean and crisp productions sound utterly dreamy and wistful. While the album never strays far from the basic template of soft indie pop (best exemplified by the standout "Between the Lines"), there is plenty of subtle variety here, with synths, beat boxes, and melodica adding instrumental color, and loving stylistic nods to shoegaze, post-punk/new wave and classic French pop (the Serge Gainsbourg cover "Chanson de Prévert" -- the band is named after another Gainsbourg song.) As well executed as all of it is, the record does undeniably trend toward the generic -- but in a sense that just makes Sambassadeur all the more comforting, and a sure bet for fans of the genre.

The Radio Dept: Lesser Matters and Pet Grief reviews

The Radio Dept. are an indie rock band who play fuzzed-out, ramshackle pop songs, and Lesser Matters, their debut full-length, was self-recorded in homes and small studios with unabashedly lo-fi production values, but it somehow manages to project a timeless elegance and aplomb that belie this unassuming provenance. The album crystallizes and perfects a certain strain of understated, sophisticated, genially gritty modern pop/rock, drawing on a host of familiar 1980s post-punk touchstones from shoegaze and noise pop (My Bloody Valentine, Jesus and Mary Chain) to vintage indie pop (Orange Juice, Felt) and major-league rockers like the Cure and New Order (both of whom, not so coincidentally, appeared alongside the Radio Dept. on Sofia Coppola's Marie Antoinette soundtrack) to create something that doesn't seem like it should be all that extraordinary, but ends up as much more than the sum of its parts.

In the chorus of Pet Grief's lead single and catchiest song, Radio Dept. head Johan Duncanson makes the touching if rather petty confession that the only reason he's able to withstand his jealous despair is the knowledge that his would-be romantic rival has "the worst taste in music." Well, if it makes him feel better, there's certainly no doubting his and his bandmates' taste -- like their buzzy, buzzed-about debut, Pet Grief evinces an impeccably fashionable roll call of influences from British post-punk and shoegaze to more recent electronic indie and dream pop, and if that's not enough, the hook of "What Will Give?" offers the gratuitously hip reference: "I want to hide, like Jandek before playing live." But taste only gets you so far -- if you're going to wear your influences on your sleeve, you'd better have your heart on it too, if not some other tricks up it as well.

The Legends: Public Radio and Facts and Figures reviews

The Legends' sophomore set effectively abandoned the raucously upbeat, '60s-influenced noise-pop of their surprise indie hit debut, proffering instead a tastefully moody if rather antiseptic evocation of 1980s British post-punk. Joy Division, New Order, Felt and The Cure are among the all-too-obvious reference points -- a fashionable list in 2006, certainly, which makes the album feel like an artifact of its time instead of a canny throwback -- but Public Radio pointedly lacks any of spark and personality of those bands. Indeed, it seems as if Johan Angergård was determined to hone in on the fundamental elements common to the sound of those and similar groups, and distill them into a pitch-perfect archetype of their era without any overtly distinguishing characteristics. (Titling one of the songs "I Want To Be Like Everybody Else" is a pretty decent indication, and also suggests he's not doing it without a bit of a smirk.) If that was his goal, he's succeeded admirably here: Public Radio is lavishly laid out, almost wall-to-wall, with atmospheric synth washes, pensive muted guitar leads, and wispy introverted vocals (wanting only for the pained gloominess of a Curtis or Smith), all of it practically buried under layers of reverb.

...More than any of Angergård's other outfits, the Legends make pop music with overt reference to other pop music, and Facts and Figures is no exception. Just for starters, the album shares its opening line with U2's The Joshua Tree, and there's at least one direct Belle & Sebastian quote in the lyrics. In a display of pure music geekery, the liner notes contain a list of recommended records, two for each year from 1974 to 2006, which reads like a road map to the touchstone obsessions evident throughout the Legends' first (Jesus & Mary Chain, Comet Gain, Broder Daniel, presumably others had the list extended earlier) and second albums (New Order, the Cure, Felt, et cetera.) (Those looking for clues to future stylistic shifts might take note that both Barry White and quirky Boston songwriter Don Lennon are featured with three albums apiece.) The inclusions most relevant to Facts and Figures span the entire time range, from Depeche Mode and Kraftwerk (the album design nods to Trans-Europe Express) through Momus and the Russian Futurists and, most pertinently, the Pet Shop Boys. To put it in other words: this is the Legends' synth pop album. Perhaps because synth pop as a style, despite its knee jerk association with the new wave '80s, has remained remarkably relevant, resilient, and versatile, Facts and Figures comes off as the most comfortably modern-sounding and, somewhat expectedly, the most distinctive of the Legends' stylistic forays. Though it flirts with the sort of all-out indie dance-pop one might anticipate, and despite love-struck lyrics like those of the shimmering opener "Heart," this is a curiously conflicted, often emotionally cold album -- palpably the work of an isolated individual rather than a collaborative band. At times the internal disconnect between music and lyrics is downright hypocritical: the insecure downer of a title track laments "I don't like dancing and I don't like to rock," while the self-explanatory "Disco Sucks" (more accurately listed as "Discos Suck" in the lyric sheet) is practically apoplectic -- never mind that these are two of the catchiest and most propulsive tunes on the album. (Dance-hating dance music is, perhaps, a slight modification of the sugar-coated cynicism that has long been an indie pop staple.) Dance phobia or no, Facts and Figures is an impressively solid album of electronic pop that deserves to stand among Angergård's finest work and win fans among discophiles and wallflowers alike.

Wan Light: Let's Wake Up Somewhere Else and Carmaline reviews

Wan Light singer Krister Svensson's voice is nearly a dead ringer for that of Mercury Rev's Jonathan Donahue, which means it's also not unlike Neil Young's -- high, reedy, perhaps a little bit of an acquired taste, but surprisingly affective and resonant. The Swedish duo's music also bears out some broader comparisons to those artists, and to California's like-minded Radar Bros., in its power to evoke an expansive sense of moodiness and melancholy that's comforting and gently hopeful rather than despondent. What sets them apart are the varied and often unexpected ways they go about creating such a mood, which are remarkably eclectic considering the general consistency of affect, and their simple but endearing songwriting, which is unerringly melodic but never feels straightforwardly poppy and upbeat even at its peppiest. Let's Wake Up Somewhere Else encompasses earnest, gently drifting ballads, jangly pop songs built around snappy percussion loops and acoustic guitars, and assorted brief instrumental interludes. Texturally it ranges from the sparse, traditionalist piano accompaniment of "Freedom Fighters" to the skittering electronics of "Soul Sisters" to the lush blend of synths, symphonics, and an oddly poignant computer-voice sample on the gorgeous standout "The Astronauts." It's a lot of territory to cover in 40 minutes, but Let's Wake Up never comes across as rushed or overly ambitious, merely as a relaxed and refreshing glimpse into the hearts and minds of a couple of talented but unpretentious sentimentalists. As inventive as it is listenable, this is exactly the sort of album that habitually inspires laments about inevitable and undeserved obscurity, so spread the word; seek it out, soak it in, and share it with your loved ones.

Douglas Heart: bio and Douglas Heart review

As luscious and lazy as a late summer night, Douglas Heart's debut is perfectly tailored for a spot in the after-hours listening canon somewhere roughly in between the Cowboy Junkies' Trinity Session and Sigur Ròs' Ágaetis Byrjun -- if it's not quite as transcendent or groundbreaking as those sui generis classics, it's notably warmer and more glowing than either. The folk psychedelia of Mazzy Star and Beach House and the hazy space rock of Auburn Lull are perhaps even closer stylistic reference points, but there's a confidence and subtle positivity that sets Douglas Heart apart. Wafting in on a cloud of white noise and backwards guitar and vocal snippets before settling into a mild country-pop lope, opener "Smoke Screen" is actually the album's most kinetic moment, with some especially enjoyable bouncing bass work, but it aptly sets the tone for the album by introducing its two most defining sonic features; Malin Dahlberg's arrestingly pure but strangely twangy voice and the rich, clarion sound of Ramo Spatalovic's Hammond organ.

Laurel Music: bio and This Night and the Next review

Malin Dahlberg's striking singing voice -- clear and sweet, with a curiously accented blend of polish and twang -- worked wonderfully with the hazy dream pop sound of Douglas Heart, but it's an even more satisfying fit for Tobias Isaksson's rootsy, sentimental songwriting. That exquisite combination is the underlying source of Laurel Music's considerable charm, as manifested on the delicate, understated, and all-too-brief This Night and the Next. Split roughly evenly between sparse, tender ballads and more upbeat, shuffling country-pop numbers ("No One Wants Forever" appears once in each style), the whole album radiates warmth and light-hearted intimacy. The band's cited influences skew towards folk and indie pop -- the gentle New York outfit Ida is perhaps the most resonant point of reference -- but there's an obvious country presence here as well, overt but not overstated, what with the Isaksson's rhythmic fingerpicking, judicious use of harmonica and pedal steel, and that elusive twinge in Dahlberg's voice. It's an appealing, instantly familiar sound that has as much to do with 1960s Bakersfield as it does with 2000s Gothenburg, and in Laurel Music's hands it feels quietly, effortlessly timeless.

middling, generally

and speaking of the 9Ts...yember when i was all "big ups Big Beat inna ComeBack style, 2dubble-Oh-7"..? oh what, you nope? well hrm anyway looks like i was pretty much right on the $$$£££, if you consider that the biggest-deal electronica song of '07 (hands down), Justice's "D.A.N.C.E.", was (apparently, we now learn) executive produced (um, whatever that means), by Damien Harris, a.k.a. Midfield General, a.k.a. the head of Skint Records, locus of most Big Beat activity (discounting ChemBros and Prodigy) in the mid-late 9Tz, a.k.a. best mate to mr. Norman Cook... (not to mention the fact that there was a biggest-deal electronica in '07 - when's the last time that happened? i don't know, and it probably wasn't 1998, but i know what song it was that year...)

and now, same year as this sudden Bristol/trip-hop revival, as Thom Jurek pointed out (and he probably wasn't the first, but i no longer read anything except for all music guide) - except that really all it means is the new P-head album, since i guess the Massive won't be out 'til next year, the Big Beat revvvl gets confirmed with some old-true-school legitimacy, via a new album, General Disarray, the first since 2000, by Midfield General himself. [TBH, I never listened to MG before, although I knew the name from some Fatboy Slim mixes and whatnot. the AMG reviews of his 2000 debut and especially of his installment of the on the floor at the boutique mix series - the lo-fi allstars version of which was very formative for me - read like apologia in defense of big beat, whose reputation is still, i think, fairly tarnished:

"one realizes that Midfield's On the Floor... effort is what the big beat scene was truly about in the first place: a belief to stop thinking long enough to scatter usual classifications into the four winds. Well, just as long as it all still makes you dance."

makes me wanna hear 'em too - too bad (and crazy) that generalisation isn't available used cheap...even if it wasn't ever released domestically.]

...and what better confirmation could you ask for than a lead single [video here] explicitly glorifying the genre's most obnoxious (secondary) trait, mixed by soulwax (who aren't actually all that nu-big-beaty, but i got them confused with simian for a second) and with instrumental contributions from xavier d. rosnay (aka 1/2 of justice)?? [...and also vox by the gal from modular's bumblebeez, thereby singlesongedly linking MidGen to three of the major forces in '00s Electro-Blog-House-Tronica...incidentally the epic liner thank yous also include just about everybody else that could be included in that category, especially all those Parisian people that I haven't been too impressed with yet.]

amazingly, "Disco Sirens" isn't actually all that obnoxious, thanks largely to XDR (now there's an alias)'s tasty drum and bass work, which handily happens to blatantly rip off Daft Punk's "Around the World" ripping off (vaguely, not really so much) "Good Times"/"Rapper's Delight." because blatant rip-offing is just a part of what Big Beat is all about. see also the second half of "Bass Mechanic" ripping Nitro Deluxe's "Let's Get Brutal" riff, to excellent fun effect. Otherwise, General Disarray suffers to some extent from a common (latter-day) Big Beat problem, too many guest vocalists that don't contribute anything and end up being distracting and all over the place. especially annoying are the lengthy spoken stories on "Teddy Bear" and "Seed Distribution" - one saccharine and one unintelligible, and both becoming the whole pointless focus of their respective tracks. "On The Road" is with "robots in disguise," who I guess are some kind of disco-punk chicksinger band, at least that's just what this track sounds like, and it's not good.

The ones I like most are the instrumentals or near-instrumentals ("Dennis and My Sister" has some phone messages and Dutch football commentary it, which is just silly), which are the ones that remind me most of Simian Mobile Disco. Especially "137 Piano." "Love Thyself" is really good (and Fatboyish, but not in an obnoxious Beat-y way), and has a sermon over it. Also very nice is "Loving Laughter," which has a languorous female soul sample ("I'd like to get it on with you yeah baby"...sticks in yr head) and a laid-back floaty feel. kind of like Balearic, I guess.

speaking of which, I am finally starting to come around to "Nu-Balearic" music, or whatever it is, as music (not as a genre classification, though i suppose it is useful since it's what we've got) - "cosmic disco" may be better (or at least "cosmic" something), but I'm less interested in thinking about it as disco, per se. I like it qua ambient music, not qua dance music. (and I'm not sure I'm ready for non-danceable disco.) I suppose I've already been writing about it, via my reviews of Air France (though they're possibly too eclectic and idiosyncratic to count, I'd say) and the final third of the Milky Disco comp [i.e. the milky (not disco) part.]

but specifically, I'm really really enjoying this album by Hatchback, Colors of the Sun, which showed up unexpected. they're billing it, I guess, as "Californian Cosmic Krautrock Disco," which is pretty silly but sounds about right - the disco is mitigated by the rest of it. it sounds super Californian. and super simple, but somehow just perfect. apparently the dude is a retro/modernist design freak (just looked at his mice pace, and listen to the songs while your at it), and it kinda shows. i mean, sounds. whatever. I also seem to be enjoying the Quiet Village album. I love ambient music!

meanwhile, Johan Agebjörn (mr. sally shapiro producer guy) has put out an honest-to-good ambient album, on what may or may not be a new age label, which may or may not be an okay thing, which is way more ambient than his milky disco inclusion (not even close) or the lovely "sleep through the storm" instrmntl that closed out disco romance. and my man Lindstrøm, Mr. Cosmic himself, has also been getting toatally epic in a quite enjoyable, but it's not really balearic is it? not sure. to be honest i've been a bit more focused on his labelmates... diskJokke (awesome name, awesome capitalization scheme, awesome piano intro, and the rest is pretty good tooo) and Dom Leone (that's gonna have to wait 'til next time though...)

up next/soon: AMG review round-up of Labrador jawns among others; the frustrated swedemux ("simple syrup"), Step Up 2: The Streets review w/ DVD extras; also, new PB+J? new ex-Hefner dude? new Zoot Woman? and...[[[don't get too excited now[[[NEW MARIT (shhhh) LARSEN ((((!!!!!))))????]]]]]]. and maybe something about the Knife. and hopefully some dj gigs/mixes.

so can i be a music blogger now? is the caps thing bothering you? i can work on that...